Through These Eyes
by CaptainTinaRaven
Summary: What Kenny sees is completely different from what everyone else sees. Sometimes his mind plays tricks on him, affecting his dreams too. But is his imagination forcing him to fall for his best friend, or is it for real? KennyxCartman Edit Thankyou.
1. BitterSweet

(Edit)

I'm not too bright. Maybe because I'm blonde. A complete understatement. For me, anyways. I'm clumsy. Not really that good looking either. To me, anyways. Most of all, bad luck seems to follow me everywhere. Definition of 'accident prone.' Some times it feels like the big guy in the sky has it out for me. But seeing as I'm still alive, he must not want me that much. Maybe he just likes to watch me suffer. So far, I had to go to the hospital three times this month. All together I have seventeen scars, and that's only on my right arm. A million minor cuts, and so many bruises I don't even want to get into it. Life hates me, anyways.

My parents aren't all that rich either. We would if getting into fights was a job. I really don't like getting into dept with it though. Makes me sick thinking about it sometimes, ya know? My theory in life sometimes, is: "If two people spend too much time with each other, it could be as bad as not seeing them at all." Either way, it causes problems. Everything causes problems actually. No. Life IS the problem. I hate life, and life hates me back.

I can tell when one of my parent's fights start. I'll probably be in my room, trying to figure out homework I'll never understand, and one voice is heard. Then another. Soon, things are smashing against the walls, windows, anything. The T.v. is gone, not that I really noticed. But one thing I have noticed is my bedroom door. It's not there anymore. I miss it. I use to be able to ignore the yells and screams a little and half-ass my way through my homework. But things seem to be getting worse. Normal kids hate going to work. I love it. The day I hit sixteen I got a job. That was my birthday present to me. My parents forgot. I did not remind them, it would only start more problems. I'll probably say this more than once, but I hate life and life hates me back.

I work at one of those department stores. Ya know, the place you buy hardware: tools, nails, and other junk. I call it junk. It all looks the same to me, weather you plug it in or not. It still looks like it wants to kill me. My stomach turns there, but I manage. It's a relief compared to home. I get lots of cuts and bruises there. But I don't do a whole lot. Just take in carts, help people load stuff in their cars, and carry boxes filled with God knows what. Knowing my luck, something that wants to stab me in the chest.

I'm happy at the end of my shift though. Cartman usually picks me up around ten and brings me home. He always complains how he had to get up and off his ass to come get me, but I can tell he doesn't mind. If he did, he wouldn't. Trust me. He has ever since that one day I walked home at night and got sick. I went to the hospital for a week. He visited me each day after school. He was still complaining then.

He drives me to school in the morning too. He usually comes an hour early so we can sit down to eat breakfast. If he doesn't get breakfast in the morning, his mood is ruined and he gets pissed off more than usual.

I snap out of my own little world. My cheek felt hot and I knew it was red because my palm had been resting on it. My eyes flashed at Cartman. He had asked me something, didn't he? Damn my short attention span. "What?" I said, dumb as ever. I looked down at the yellow smiley face cookie. The eyes and mouth were iced with hardened brown frosting. I always wondered how they got it that way. Sitting besides me was a mug of coffee, black. I won't take it any other way. If I did, I would shoot myself. I liked it the way it was. It was bitter, yes, but it would not be 'coffee' with all the added stuff in it. Plus, it was cheaper.

My ear rang with Cartman's voice again. I wasn't paying attention again. I missed it. I shook it off and presented him with one of my plain, Yeah's. I've been spending more time with him, ever since Stan turned goth yet again and Kyle is trying to set him straight. But that's a different story. The good thing about Cartman was, he didn't have any intention in changing who he was and what he stood for. I didn't either. I liked him the way he was, just like my coffee. You take away the very essence of who someone, or something, is, it simply isn't IT anymore.

Cartman was fat, yes. But not in a bad way. It fit him. It suited him. And the clothes he wore only made it look more natural. He had an all powerful attitude, being bigger only made him look tougher. Meaning, people listened to his 'authority.' He has the sunglasses to prove it.

I laugh, thinking about him in those ridiculous glasses. Then, look up at him. He did not seem too happy. ! looked down at my cookie. The cookie did. I picked it up and ate a portion off and lifted my gaze at him. The small café did not have many people in today. Then again, it usually doesn't. I was rambling on in my head again, wasn't I? "What?" I asked again.

His disapproval grow more. He picked up his usual chocolate milk and took a sip out of the bendy straw. He set it down and folded his large hands onto the table. Each finger intertwining perfectly with the others. He could probably squish someone's skull with those. Ya know, like those Friday the Thirteenth movies? Nah, never mind. You probably wouldn't. "Kenny, I asked three times already. Is your dumb blonde hair clogging your ears or something?" I could tell he was holding back anger. He voice was shaky, but not loud enough to actually be yelling at me.

I heard him this time, but that was not what he was asking me was it? I look down, ashamed. Why did I have to be such a loser? "No, sorry. I just have a lot on my mind, dude." This was true. I wouldn't lie to him. He was the only real person I could turn to right now. I scratched my right arm and flinched, forgetting a scrape was there.

He sighed, his thick chest moving with the motion. He gave me a tired look, as if he were sick of playing a game. He took another bite out of his pancakes and stood, "I'll be right back. I have to shit." With that said, he left me at the table and went for the men's restroom.

I laughed again, this time at Cartman's openness. If he wanted to, he'd take a shit in front of everyone (not many, but some) in this place and not give a damn. I liked that. Well, not watching him take a dump, but the way you could read him perfectly. And you wouldn't even have to. He would tell you what was on his mind. If something pissed him off, you would know first hand by him. He never kept secrets.

Not like me…

I took another sip of my coffee. It tasted like hot water and leaves, with a hint of bran kinkiness. It kind of reminded me of gum you chewed too long. But it was satisfying either way. It tastes bad before, after, and during each sip, but there was something about it I could not get enough of.

Cartman was going to be awhile. Usually about fifteen minutes. I laughed again. I don't know why. Maybe it was Cartman again. I picked my cookie up and chewed the brown smile off. I was the only one who was suppose to be smiling. I put it down at looked at it. Two little round pieces of frosting. My smile grew. "Boobs," I whispered pointing to it. Cartman would have laughed too if he were here. Maybe not. Maybe I was just perverted. I admit I was.

Time was going by slow, and I did not have a fancy little cell phone you could flip out and play the little demo game 'Bejeweled.' I could not even look through a digital phonebook. The only phonebook I had was in my head. I knew Cartman's number by heart.

I recited the number in my head a few times before a waitress stopped by the table. She took my half eaten cookie plate along with Cartman's. She held both in one hand, balancing it. I watched amused. It was not long until I was staring at her chest. They were huge, but they weren't real. I can tell when a rack is real. Take Bebe, THOSE sons of bitches are real.

She stared at me and smiled. She was about to say something, probably asking if I needed anything else. I didn't. "Check please." I said before she could get a word out. I gave the fake breasted chick a dirty look and tightened my hood with the small orange strings for my defense. She was looking at my face. I hated when people did that. I'm not good looking. I know that.

She simply nodded and was on her way.

I snatched my wallet out of my pocket, even if the check was not presented to me yet. I looked inside. A few dollars. I really wanted to surprise Cartman, showing I DID have money to pay for us both, but I didn't. I watched it with a grimace, like it was my wallets fault I did not have anything inside… hardly.

"Put your poor money away," It was Cartman. He was back. He was staring at me like I offended him or something, "We're out in public, we don't need to see you flashing your poor ass money. Now, stick your Goddamn wallet back in your poor ass pants!" He slapped a twenty on the table and went to my side. He was guarding me until I put my money away.

I watched him in defeat. There was no arguing with him, but I kind of got the vibe that he did not mind paying for my breakfast either. Like I said, if he didn't want to do something, he wouldn't. I shoved the worn out wallet into my orange pant pocket.

"Now, come on. You'll be late to class AGAIN! Then, I'll have to drag your poor ass out of detention, AGAIN! If that happens, So help me God, Kenny. I'll kick you in the nuts!" He wouldn't. He shouted it anyways to make a scene like he always did. Cartman leaving without a big scene wasn't logical at all. He left me.

I followed. I always did. Like a puppy follows its master. No matter how brutally they are treated, they always are loyal to their master. As I am, loyal to Cartman. He's really the only one who has listened to my problems. I could tell he was listening, even though he might not show it. Shy? Cartman? Never. He has always just been weak at showing true emotion. Then again, he always says 'hippies' are the only ones who show emotion.

I don't want to be a hippy.

I heard the little ding from the door. Showing we were outside. I could tell. It was freezing. I walked faster and went to his side and held onto his wide arm. It was warm. He was always warm, to me anyways. I let a few shudders slip by, but my temperature rose a little from the other's body heat. He didn't do anything. He never did. Anyone else he would call gay, but he always ignored my touch.

His car beeped. He had an automatic door opener. I ran from him to the passenger's side and opened the door. I sat down and buckled my seatbelt, holding myself since the car was now cold again. I waited for him to get in too I could cling to him once more.

It was a few seconds after I got in until he got to the door and opened it. The breeze hit my face, but Ignored it for now. He sat down, causing the car to shake a bit. I didn't mind. I was so use to it by now, I would have never know it did anymore. He shut the door and put the right key into the ignition, starting the car up. The heat was blasting hard out of the vents, but only cold air came from it. Meaning, the car needed to warm up. He twisted the knob until it was to the windshield. The air blasted through the vents of the windshield.

My arms wrapped around his one and I rested my head on it. He was so warm. It gave me the chills sometimes. I kinda wish moments like this would never end. I really hated school. Nobody really liked me. The stuck up bitches. It didn't matter, not as long as I had my best friend.

He took his arm away from me. I whined. It wasn't fair. He was warm. I looked up with a disappointed look. I forced my head by his body, but his hand went to my head first, stopping me. His hand went down, so my chin was resting on his fingers and his large thumb came up and traced the under lining of my eye.

He shook his head, "You didn't sleep again, did you?" He released my chin and placed his hand on top of the steering wheel. I kind of figured he knew what my answer was.

I didn't. I think too much.

He became aggravated and rubbed at his eyelids, "What am I goin' to do with you, McCormick?" He gave a petty look my way and searched his pocket for two singles and handed them to me, "At least eat lunch today. I swear, if I find you outside smoking instead, I'll kill you." His enthusiasm wasn't in his sentence like it usually is. It sounded more serious.

I shoved his hand away and turned so my back was facing him, "Yeah, whatever." We were constantly having difficulties with this subject. I hated lunch. No one to sit with. No one, but snobs. I shivered once, more so from the cold. The car seriously needed to warm up faster.

"Fine, I give up. I could care less if you starve your little poor ass self." He flicked the bucks my way anyways and put the car in drive. We were on our way to one of the places I hated most. Note: I said 'one,' I hated my home more.

After a few minutes of being stubborn, I gave up. It was too damn cold. I turned back around and put my arm around him, laying my head on his soft stomach. It wasn't that comfortable, but it was comfortable enough. The damn Cd holder between us was jabbing into my side. Without it, it would be like fucking heaven, not that i know what that feels like. My eyes stared at the red coat before I buried my face into the warmth. My eyes closed. I was so damn tired. So fucking, Goddamn tired.

Before I knew anything, the car was stopped. We had to be in Hell, I mean, school by now. I pretended I was still sleeping. I wanted to rest as much as I could, and Cartman usually give me five minutes before actually getting out of the car.

My hood was pulled off just slightly as he began to massage at my head. My eyes remained closed. I almost laughed. He really thought I was asleep, didn't he? I could have pissed myself laughing, if it didn't feel so good.

I cuddled closer to his chest, feeling his heartbeat on my forehead. I noticed. It was going a lot faster than usual. I most have pissed him off. But was he still mad at that? Was he even still mad?

There were voices outside, not close. Far away. I didn't want to leave. It actually felt like nothing would kill me when I was close to Cartman, but once we go our separate ways. Then, what? Maybe I was just paranoid.

I heard him sigh. His hand lifted. That wasn't a good sign. I didn't want to leave this car. I had to, but I didn't want to. I didn't want him to 'wake me up.'

I threw my arms around his thick body, well as much as I could. He knew I had to be awake now. "Do we have to?" I muffled out from his jacket. He had to know what I meant.

It took him awhile to answer. At first I didn't think he heard me. I almost looked up to see what was up, but I returned my head to where it was once I heard him, "Yes." It was that foreign seriousness again. His hand reached the back of my neck and he played with a few strands of my blonde hair.

I pulled my body up, but my head felt groggy. I went to go sit in my seat, but instead, fell forward from dizziness. I swing my arms around his neck in defense and landed with my back on his lap. It was a better land than I thought. But looking up, we were face-to-face. When my arms were around his neck, I must have pulled his head down with me.

He watched me for awhile. What was he looking at? My cavity filled mouth? …or my sunk in anorexic looking face? That, or the huge bags under my eyes.

I let him go and put my hood on. I tightened it so I wouldn't have Cartman suffer with looking at me. I got out of the car. We were at school. Meaning, all that 'close friend' stuff we were doing before had to stop. I wasn't allowed to hold onto him, or even smile in his direction. Not that anyone could tell.

I saw him get out of his car. It beeped, indicating it was locked. He looked my way again before shoving the keys into his pocket. He did not bother taking his hand out from the pocket. Instead, put his other hand in the one on the opposite side. He began walking.

I followed.

I was sick of this. My life was so repetitive, it wasn't even funny. Couldn't anything different happen in my life? Instead, could I just keel over and die? On second thought, I wouldn't do that to Cartman. He was all I had, and I was all he had. But was this life? Is this all there is? Then, what? Get old, work, sleep, work, sleep, piss, pay bills, work, sleep, sleep, piss again, and die? It made me wonder sometimes. Wondering if there was something more. Something better.

My head bowed a little. I wanted to hold Cartman's arm. I always feel that at school. It was a wall. An unsaid rule that was made. Something he and I understood perfectly, without words. What would happen if I broke that boundary? What would happen if I broke that rule? Did I want to find out that much? Why? There wasn't a point.

I trailed behind. I always did. I always followed Cartman. There were rare moments when I didn't, but I usually did. I even agree with him, even when I know he's wrong and full of shit. The beauty of this friendship was, Cartman's right. End of discussion. You could say I'm a follower. But who would go against the one person who does everything for you. I was always in his debt, even if he did not expect anything back.

"You working tonight?" He said. That must have been his question from before. I heard it loud and clear now.

"No," I shook my head, even if his back was turned to me. I felt stupid after it. I shouldn't, since he didn't see. Why was I worried about it then? I continued, "I do tomorrow. Why?" I waited, eager to what he would say next.

"You," He started, not finishing until he looked over his shoulder and his eye contact met with mine, "want to hangout for a lil'? I finally got a second controller so you can play 360 too." He was always so damn casual. It was all the time too. Well, not all the time. If anyone else was with us he would have said, "Kenny, you're coming over to muh house. So, get yo poe' ass over to muh house after schoo'!" Since no one was around, he didn't feel the need to make it a big deal, I guess.

Either way, I was relieved to hear that from him. Now, I knew I could hang with him until late so I can avoid the fighting. I usually fall asleep there. Next to him, watching t.v. Or a movie. I smiled, but because of my hood, it probably only showed the bottom portion of my eyes rise up. He knew my smile, and I knew his. He knew my answer before I said it. I wanted to hug him, but that was off limits.

He broke eye contact now and continued, "After schoo,' meet me by my car. If I'm not there, just wait." He always told me this. He acted like I wouldn't come back after school. It really sucked though, not having any classes with him that is. Made it harder for me to see him.

"Of course," I answered back, watching his back now that I was no longer staring at his eyes. Bored with his back and his red coat my gaze fell lower. His ass looked sweet. His jeans gave it a little lift today. Other days he'd wear baggy ones. But every once in a great while, I'd get my eye candy. If I had it my way, I would glue those pair onto him. It showed off a little more. I liked what he wears under his poofy coat, but I only get to see if I come to his house. Which was today. I wondered what he was wearing.

I was smiling like a complete idiot, but no one saw. Since no one CAN see, I would continue with my little fantasy. I'm not gay, honest. If you look long and hard enough, Cartman has his own charm. He was hot.

"So, why didn't you sleep THIS time?" I heard him say. He acted like I did this more than once. Well, I have, but still. He didn't have to make it sound so… demeaning. He treated it like one of my other habits.

I shrugged. I didn't want to go on with this conversation. Couldn't he talk more about his 360? It was easy for him to brag on and on about one of his video games. But no, we had to bring this up again, "Just thinking."

"Thinking?" One word question. Meaning, I had to answer back with what I was thinking about. I hated that. We were now on the side walk. School was so close, it made me cringe.

"I had a nightmare," It sounded stupid. Something a little two year old with a nightlight would say. It was the truth though. I have become paranoid lately.

"About…?" He was still questioning me. What was this? Twenty-one questions? It was starting to get offended by him getting into my personal business.

"About dying," I said plain and simple. I wasn't going to add anything onto it, but I figured talking about it might help a bit, "I keep having dreams where everything wants to kill me. But I wake up right before I actually 'die.'" It sounded even stupider out loud.

"Kenny," He turned looking right at me, "You have the weirdest imagination I've ever known." It was an insult. Right after he said it, he laughed as if it were a joke. I was serious. He didn't seemed to be buying it, was he?

I shoved my hands in my pockets and passed him with a dirty look. Does he have to make a joke about everything? I guess, I was just a little frustrated lately, but there was that sense of danger around me more and more. Scared, I guess. You could put it that way.

He must have understood I was no longer joking because he followed me. He followed me. Why does that sound odd? He turned me around and gave me an even dirtier look than I had given him. Don't know how? I was the one who didn't have a shower this morning. "Jesus Christ, Kenny. Don't be such a Goddamn pussy!" He mouthed each word perfectly, but the sound came out scratchy from his throat. He was letting anger out on me, I was already a verbal punching bag as it was.

I pushed him off to get my own space back. My personal belongings are mine only (unless I share), but mine aren't something you can see at this moment. I backed up, trying to gain it back. His pushiness was pissing me off and his words weren't exactly fun either, "Leave me alone, you fat fuck!" I shouted back. My frustration was building and needed to get something out. Even if it was negative.

He always turned red when I called him that. You call him that and all Hell breaks loose. It wasn't a good thing for me. My space would probably be invaded a lot sooner than I thought. He would hate me now for that. Sure enough, I was right. He grabbed me by the coat collar and forced so we were eye to eye. "I swear! Call me that again, you poor son of a bitch!" Son of a bitch? He was calling my mom a bitch? Like I cared. That only effected Kyle.

My nerves seemed to calm, but I humored him. I would never learn, would I? I repeated what I had called him as if each word were their own separate sentence, "You. Fat. Fuck." I gave him a proud victory smile, even if I was the one who was going to pay for it.

He let out a few raged snarls right in my face, but he threw me down. He didn't even look back to see if I was hurt or not. Which I wasn't. But still. He just walked away with a familiar shout of, "Screw you guys, I'm going to class!" 'Guys?' Talking to me like I was more than one person, or I made him so angry he couldn't think straight.

I looked back at him. He left me on the ground, like the poor piece of crap I was. The poor perverted piece of crap with a bitch for a mom. I watched the ground and coughed a few times. I was nasty enough to have saliva linger off my lips. I looked back up at him. Those jeans still made his ass look totally sweet.


	2. NightMare

It was lunch. Of course I didn't listen to him. I was stubborn about that. Plus, I ruined every chance I have for escaping my Goddamn house tonight. He was probably pissed as Hell. Not that I cared. Well, maybe a little.

I was sitting at a back exit. There were no teachers. There was no one. Its not like they checked anyways. At least I was alone for a minute.

I closed my eyes and my body drifted downwards a little, but I caught myself. I needed sleep, but I wasn't going to get it tonight. I know I would keep thinking about how I pissed off Cartman. I sighed. I could have handled that better. I really could have.

"I knew I'd find you out here, McCormick!" Shit! Without much thought, I hid the square behind my back. I couldn't have been caught. Aw, damn. Who didn't have that much of a life to come and get me in trouble.

I looked up. It was Cartman! Shit. I was worrying about fucking nothing again. "What do you want?" I said, uninterested and brought the smoke back to my lips. He really knows how to scare someone shitless, "Shouldn't you be in class or something?"

"Oh!" His voice rang out in high pitch, but the rest came out normal, "And I'm getting that from someone who is skipping the easiest class alive!" He sat next to me and set a sandwich, applesauce, and a carton of milk on my lap, "You better eat, damn it! For some gay-ass reason, the snack line is two dollars more!"

I looked down at what I was given, then, looked his way. He wasn't looking back. That made me feel bad. I mean, he didn't have to do that. I had no choice, but to eat it now. I was kind of hungry anyways. I unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite. It was pretty good. I mean, good for school anyways. I swallowed and looked his way again, "Thank you." I tried to make it sound like I meant it. I did.

"Yeah, yeah," He rested his cheek on his palm as if he were bored to death. "Sorry, I guess." He started. It sounded more persistent, but I knew he meant well, "You know, about your dream, or something." I knew why he said it. He didn't need to explain any further.

This made me smile. Did he feel bad too? It made me feel a little warm just thinking about it. I looked around. No one. Sweet. I wrapped the arm, that was closest to him, around his and rested on him. My head found his shoulder. He was still warm, "It's ok."

He shifted a little, but it was towards me. He ignored what I was doing because no one else was around. Sometimes I wonder about him though. He would probably let me do whatever the hell I wanted as long as no one else was around, but he never does anything back (Unless I'm sleeping, like the time in the car). He just sits there.

"What class are you skipping?" I was done with what I was eating (Well, as done as it was ever going to be) and my other arm went around the front end of his body. I squeezed at his tummy fat and giggled as if I were the one who was being tickled. Squeeze. Squeeze. Squeeze. It was amusing and somehow making me hot.

Again, he just let me go on with what I was doing and decided to answer my question instead, "Algebra." He shrugged, "I don't get numbers anyways. If I don't understand what's going on now, it doesn't matter if I skip one day." I must have struck something because he let out one laugh that sounded more like a whisper.

He was talking about Algebra two. I wasn't even understanding that class. Not that I'm a wiz kid like Kyle, but still. "Yeah?" I said, looking up at him, "I'm still goin' be out here tomorrow. What do you say to that?" I smiled a bit.

He looked down at me. It looked serious, until he gave me a smile back, "Then, I'll have to get my ass out here again, you ass hole." The words sounded bad, but his tone of voice was more playful.

I buried my face into his arm. My face was red from remembering him, period. It wasn't long until I found another reason to frown again. I held him a little tighter, "Don't you get sick of life?" An obvious change in tone and subject, "It's so repetitive. Wake up, go to school, go to work, sleep, wake up, school, work, skip sleep, school, work, school, work, weekend comes, sleep…" I would have kept going if Cartman wouldn't have stopped me.

He ruffled my hair with those large fingers and gave a shake at the head, "Enough. I get it." He placed his hand on his stomach, his finger tips just barely touching mine, "I guess, I'm lucky. You never give me a normal day, McCormick." His lips uncovered his teeth. His smile was a lot more bright. This would be a rare occasion. Like an eclipse. He would make sure it was the last thing you saw. Unless, you're me.

McCormick. He's been calling me that a lot lately. Hasn't he? Or is that just me? I guess, I'm still paranoid. My shoulders went up and I continued to hide my face in his large arm. Warm. I pressed my lips against the material of his coat, wishing I could get to flesh. Not likely.

"You like life too much to be worrying about that crap," He sighed, "and stop thinking so Goddamn much. You just make problems when you do that." He removed his arm from my comfort like the time in the car. Why does he always do that? Well, I guess, he would have to since, I would probably be clinging onto him for the rest of the day if he didn't. He looked right at me and took both strings, of my hoodie, in his grasp. He pulled them so only my eyes were shown, the way I like it. Then, tied it. He gave a playful punch to my cheek and stayed where he was. He looked me in the eyes, constantly shifting his view at one eye to the other and so on. He was trying to look at both at the same time, "Don't do anything stupid over 'life.' Its just a game someone made because they didn't have one." A smirk appeared.

It wasn't the exact answer I was looking for, but if you think about it, it kind of did make sense. I mean, the players have lives and the creature makes the rules. One rule, he can't play, or something. Or maybe I'm thinking of Monopoly or Operation. I think, I think too much, "Well, can I use your 'Life' car? I'm too poor to buy one of my own." I was thinking of the same game, right? The little white cars. You start out with a blue or pink piece and you get a car as the little marker. I think, after college you get to marry someone and they get to sit in the passenger's seat. Hard game to explain. I've never played it all the way through.

He put his finger to his chin as if he had to think about it for a second, "Well, I don't know? Then, you'd have to marry me and be my bitch. You think you're up to that, McCormick?" He folded his arms over his thick chest and watched me with victory. He thought I would say no to that offer, didn't he? He stood up and began to walk.

I stood too and followed. My hand grabbed his and I looked at him with a grin, "That's Mrs. Cartman, to you." I corrected my last name for him. I actually couldn't believe I thought of a come back that fast. Maybe it wasn't a come back. Maybe it was something else.

He kind of gave me a face like he was totally weirded out. Like I had a huge ass booger just chilling on top of my head. He closed his eyes and shook his head, giving a smile. He pushed me a little and broke our hand connection, "Well, ho. You better get in that kitchen and make me some kids and a pie!" He went back to walking like he was the tallest man alive again.

I fell behind a bit, but I caught up. My arm swung underhand and I grabbed at one of his nice ass cheeks. It made my day, "I can't have your man babies without you, sweet ass." I was feeling evil at the moment. What could I say. He wore those jeans today. He was asking for it.

He practically jumped back from my grip. He rubbed at his ass as if I fatally wounded it. Wouldn't be surprise if I didn't. His cheeks turned that God awful scarlet again and he stared at me with all intention of killing me, "No, Kenny! That's a bad Kenny!" He shouted, pointing at me like I was a dog, who had just peed on the rug, or something.

I just laughed. My triumph march started now. One of my rare moments where I got to lead Cartman.

The bell rang and he left with a shrug. Probably what I get for violating him, but he'd be back to normal by the end of the day. It was time to go to class for actual learning. The class Cartman had already skipped. Algebra II. Kyle was in the class.

Kyle was a teacher's pet and he would always get the answers right. Not to mention the little shiny stickers on the top of his papers. I was happy to just survive the class. It kind of made me mad. Kyle always got so much attention. Even if some was negative, he still got it.

Most of the negative stuff was from Cartman. I hated that. Once Kyle was in sight, he would ignore me and go straight for, what he liked to call him, 'Jew-boy.' Kind of made me feel left out, or just the background or something. I even thought Cartman had a crush on Kyle the way he picked on him before. Since I said that, he backed off a little. Now, just simply passing him in the hallway and spouting out 'Jew' instead of his birth name. Still made me mad though.

I almost envy Kyle. He's fucking the opposite of me. Smart, bright, rich, talented, and did I mention happy? He even has a prettier face than half the girls in class. He was somewhat short, and had a skinny figure, making him look even more girly. And his voice is so God damn perfect. I wouldn't be surprised if Cartman wanted to bang him. I already knew Stan wanted to. Ever since Junior High. Ya know, the beginning. The time where guys start to go through a little thing called puberty. He's been eye fucking the shit out of him since thirteen. What? Was I the only one who could tell? Makes me think. Did Kyle go through woman puberty instead? Might as well slap some tits on him and call him a girl. Freak.

I sat in my desk, pulling out a random notebook. I sighed as I looked at my pencil that looked like it was sharpened all the way down to the damn eraser. I smacked it on my desk with a frustrated noise. Mad. I was mad. If only I could look that way through Eric's eyes. No, I was a no good 'poe piece of crap!'

"Here," That soft voiced chimed at my eardrums. I wanted to just rip them out of my skull and throw it at the person I knew who was standing in front of me. 'Here,' I'm a girl. Blah blah blah! Let's go shopping and help each other put tampons in our asses.

I looked up. There was a pencil between his two delicate Jew fingers. God, did I just want to rip those fuckers off. Guess you wouldn't be able to finger any of your millions of boyfriends tonight. Always in my business and shit. Jesus.

I took the pencil with a smile, a fake smile should I add, "Thanks, Kyle. You're a life saver!" Yeah. I'll shove this 'My Little Pony' pencil right through your eyelids and see what happens. I began to doodle a little circle on a clean piece of notebook paper, "So, talk to Stan in awhile?" I wasn't really interested, but I was getting kind of sick of Kyle looking at my little circle thing. I drew two dots. EYES!

The Jew boy sat down in the desk next to mine. He's gonna be here awhile, huh? He let out a wimpy ass sigh as if sitting down was some kind of damn workout. He flashed his bright emerald eyes my way and gave me his 'serious' (cereal) look, "Yeah. Nothing's getting through to him, dude." I flinched. His voice, God! Sounds like a girl saying 'dude.' I mean, a preppy girl saying 'dude.' I have nothing against girls who say 'dude,' unless they're really high pitched, like the juice (Jewish Douche) over here. "I mean, I keep trying to tell him he doesn't need to be goth. I don't know? He's just so different, now. I don't think me and him should be friends anymore."

I swear, if I was drinking something, would have spit it all over my desk. Did he just say he WASN'T going to be friends with Stan anymore? "What?!" I couldn't say much else. Kyle has finally given up on something? Probably preached the preaching out of him.

"Yeah," He gave a sad look to the top of his desk, not looking up, "I kinda feel alone, you know? My best friend is gone and I have no one." He looked my way once again, "Do you think its alright if I hang out with you? Well, you and Cartman." Goddamn puppy dog eyes. You couldn't say no to those things.

Then again, I couldn't exactly say yes to them either, "I don't know, dude? It's Cartman's house. You might have to ask him." It was perfect. If Kyle asked Cartman, he would proudly say no to him. Then, we could hangout with no Jews in sight. Perfect.

"Sweet," He smiled, "I think I'll do that." He stood up, obviously taking someone else's seat when he sat next to me. He waved at me and went back to his own seat.

I waved back with a smile, but my smile was based off my victory. I should be the one saying 'sweet.' I focused my eyes back to my notebook. I wrote my name in big cursive letters. Then, Cartman's. I thought about the whole marriage thing. Or should I say 'Life' thing. I wrote my first name. Good so far. Then, added Cartman to the end. 'Kenny Cartman.' It didn't sound half bad. It almost sounded better than my own name. I could probably even abbreviate it. KC. Casey. I continued to draw. Two little stick figures, holding hands with heart around them. I drew a circle on the taller one, making it clear it was Cartman with the belly. My smile widened.

"Kenny. What is the next step in finding the function of 2 pie over 6?"

My head shot up. Another question went one ear and out the other. I looked around the room, then, at the clock. It was already thirty minutes into the class. I usually don't drift off for that long. What the hell was a function? I stuttered out a few um's before shrugging. This wasn't the first time it's happened so I didn't feel too embarrassed.

The teacher just shook her head and gave me a look. "Mr. McCormick, see me in the hallway, now." She went back to the board and erased it. She began writing the homework on the board. The homework I wasn't planning on doing. She turned, "Ok, class. Do problems 10 through 32 on your own in class. You may work with a partner if you would like." Her attention fell to me now. I guess, I should follow her.

The hallway. It looked dead. I never seen it so vacant before. There's a huge difference between classes, huh? I made myself comfortable by leaning against the lockers. I didn't look her way. It was going to be another lecture, wasn't it?

She closed the door behind her. "You realize why I brought you out here." I coarse I did, bitch. The exact opposite reason why Kyle isn't.

"I'm achieving poor homework and test grades. My grades have dropped 'drastically' and I'm in danger of failing your class." I recited. This was the same old thing, wasn't it?

"Well, yes. But I'm sort of concerned about your behavior. You don't get along with the other kids in class, you always appear tired, and you haven't turned in a single assignment since day one. Are there complications at home? I'm here to listen." She smiled. She was a dumb broad. Actually getting into my business!

I looked away. I didn't need her Goddamn counseling. Things were fine. I just hated math. It's totally gay.

"I see, You're not going to talk are you?" She gave a sigh and looked through her papers as if she was doing something 'important.' "Well, there are people all around you that can help, if you need it."

"Thanks, but no thanks," I didn't even look her way. My eyes felt red. Why the hell would some bring up that Goddamn subject in school? What was the purpose? Life was way too complicating for this bullshit. I walked back in the classroom, the door swinging open and making a loud noise. Frustration again. I went to my desk, and to my surprise, I saw Kyle in the desk next to it. All ready to do these pointless problems. I just wanted to sleep. Couldn't I just be invisible for two seconds. I sat and hid my face in my arms.

"Kenny?" Kyle said cautiously. He better, or I'll rip his balls off.

"Just leave me alone." I said, not wanting to bother with any of this anymore.

"Come on, I don't need another friend doing this to me," He always played his part so innocently. He knew I was in a bad mood. And I sure as hell didn't want to talk about it. The last thing I needed was one of his speeches.

"That's fucking it!" I stood, the desk almost flying to the other side of the room. I flung my book bag over my shoulder and left the room. Fuck that, I left the school.

I went to the one place I could. I put my bag down and made a seat on the nose of Cartman's car and lit up. Why was I getting so frustrated lately? Everything just seemed to annoy me. I laid down, my head against the windshield. I watched the sky. It was totally white. Not like the days where you look up and see little puffy clouds and can make pictures out of them. I cried my eyes out. No one was watching, so it didn't matter really. Besides, I had calmed twenty minutes later.

What was that teacher trying to say? I'm crazy? Sounded like it. I am not. No fucking way! I was just irritated. With everything. I rubbed my eyes. They were sore. I wanted to sleep. I did.

I woke up not too long after. The students were swarming out of the school to their cars. Wanting to go home. Me, wanting to go to Cartman's. I rubbed my eyes again and noticed my body floating. "What the fuck?!" Was I high!?

No, Cartman was picking me off of his car. "Why are you so early?" The answer hit him, "Goddamn it, Kenny! You skipped class again, didn't you?" He opened the back door and placed me in the back seat, where I could lay. He gave a disapproving shake of the head and looked at me, "You have to sit back here. We need to make room for Jew-boy." He got in on his side and closed the door.

My eyes were plastered open. Kyle!? They started to burn. Cartman had actually said yes?! But this was our time to hangout. I wouldn't be able to hold his arm. Sit in his lap. Sit on his back as he lays on the floor. Lay on the couch together as we watch T.V. I was mad. Even more frustrated. I folded my arms.

Sure enough, the curly red-head came to the car. He opened the door and sat inside. He looked my way and smiled, "Hello, Kenny." He met the other in the driver's seat, "Cartman." A little happy don't you think?

"Jew," Cartman said back with a smirk.

I didn't even bother to respond.

We drove back. I stayed in my laying position, my back facing the front of the car. My forehead felt the soft seat. I pulled my coat closer to my body, freezing. I blame Kyle.

The whole ride I could only think about how my day was ruined. My day off with Cartman was ruined. All because of Kyle. I was pissed. I really felt like stabbing his brains out with that 'My Little Pony' pencil now. Wait. My notebook. I fucking left it in class, didn't I? I was a scatter brain. What if someone sees it? SHIT! I had something else to worry about now.

Well, I didn't have anything to worry about, right? I mean, it's not like I was actually in love with Cartman. It was just an inside joke. About board games. Yeah, that's right. I'll have fun explaining that to people.

"Thanks for letting me join, Cartman!" I heard Kyle's voice. I shivered. Your fault, Jew. All your fault.

Cartman didn't say much to that. I didn't plan on him saying anything anyways. Just a low noise showing he was actually listening to him. Then, screaming at a car who was in his way.

"He'll be fine," I heard Kyle say next, in a softer pitch voice. He must have been talking about Stan or something. I really could care less. Anything that comes out of his mouth is gay anyways.

The real shocker was I could hear Cartman's voice, now loud and clear. That seriousness in it again, "I know." He shifted in his seat. I don't know where he was looking. I didn't bother. Maybe to see if a car was in the next lane, "He just seems so depressed all the time. I wouldn't know how to help him." Defiantly, they were talking about Stan. They had to. I mean, I didn't know any other depressed people.

"Just be there for him," Kyle's voice was unusually soft. Was the fucker flirting with Cartman!? I nuzzled my face closer into the seat. I didn't want to think about that. It made everything hurt.

"I am, you ass wipe!" Yay! His anger was back, meaning Kyle was pissing him off again. Maybe he'll get so mad and kick him out, "You think I'm not!?"

"No, no! That's not what I meant, dude. You're doing a great job right now, but if it gets worse…" The girly voice came back.

"It won't get worse! Ya hear me, Jew-boy! I'll make sure it doesn't!" Cartman shouted louder.

What Kyle said next was strange. Usually he would scream back at him, but instead, he was calm. He even sounded happy as he said it, "You must care about him a lot. You're a good friend, Cartman." Did he just say that? I was defiantly going to rip his ball sack off now. Who the Hell did he think he was?

He made another incoherent noise. More of a, 'Oh God, I can't believe he said that out loud' thing. I was thinking the same thing in my mind.

The car stopped. We must have been at his house already. I pretended I was still asleep. Just curious if they would try to wake me up or just leave me there.

Sure enough, that large hand nudged me in the back .Not hard, but it didn't matter to me. I still didn't move. It was a contest. How far would Cartman go to wake me up.

Obviously, not far. He got out of the car and opened the door for the backseat. He leaned inside and picked my 'sleeping' body up. He put me on one of his shoulders.

I didn't move. He was so warm. I'd be a retard to move.

"Aw. So cute, Cartman," I heard that Jew voice again. I wanted to bite his whole face off. Kill him, God. Maybe not that, but still.

I didn't hear Cartman say a word. Maybe he was tired. I knew I was. Maybe a little sleep couldn't hurt. I'd probably feel better if he were there next to me though. I'm not gay, honest. I just feel a lot safer when someone is in the room with me.

Kyle hummed a high pitched tune. Who knows what it was. Probably some Hanukkah song, but he trailed behind a bit. Watching us, most likely. I didn't dare open my eyes. I couldn't even if I tried.

We were inside, I could tell. It was a lot warmer. It smelled like home. You know, how you go to someone's house for the first time, you notice it smells weird. But if you're at a house you've been at forever, it doesn't even smell. The distinct smell of home.

"I'm takin' him up to bed, get my Goddamn 360 started," Cartman said rather quietly, but still had a sense of rudeness. It could have been louder, I wouldn't have minded. I wasn't exactly asleep just yet. I felt him move and heard him climb the stairs.

I held on tighter. I hated heights. I pretty much hate anything that has something to do with death. I didn't mean to, but I whispered to him, "If I'm too heavy, I can walk." I didn't want to bother him. He should be playing his game by now. Instead, he has to carry me up when I was very capable of doing it myself.

I heard a grunt, "What the hell are you talkin' about McCormick? You're as light as a fucking Goddamn angel!" His voice rose once he knew I was awake, but not loud enough for Kyle to hear. His sentence was so rude, so hurtful, until his last word. That was a weird thing to compare me to. Was he sure he didn't mean to say, '…light as a poor piece of crap' or '…light as a skinny ass bitch?' Angel?

I wouldn't say anything. I wouldn't. I was quiet until he dropped me onto his bed. I cuddled my face into the pillow and pulled the covers over my body. Warm. I smiled, still starring at my eyelids, until I opened them to take in one more vision of Cartman.

He sat down, pretty cautious of my skinny legs. I wouldn't have minded. He didn't look my way. His hands folded into each other and he brought it to his chin. Was he going to talk to me or play with Kyle? I thought his intention was to play 360.

I waited. What did he want? His facial expression was so… different. Maybe it was just the lighting. It was dark in the room and the hallway light sunk in from the halfway opened doorway. He looked way older and mature compared to his menacingly evil face.

"Death, Kenny," It wasn't really a sentence. Maybe he was about to tell me what death was, "You have these dreams often?" His eyes didn't move, or even blink, "In your dreams, other people are the ones killing you…. Right?" He said that, as if it were hard for him to say. Was this on his mind all day? I felt bad. I made him worry about this. I should have kept it to myself. He wasn't done, "I mean, You're not dreaming about killing yourself. You know, suicide."

My eyes shot open, wide. How was he even saying this? "No way! Of course not!" I shouted almost instantly, "Are you going to take me seriously at all?!?" I pulled the covers over my head. I didn't want to deal with this right now. It was bad enough he invited Kyle tonight.

He pulled all of the sheets off me. He glared hard at me, almost speaking through his teeth, like they were glue together or something, "This IS serious! Look at you!" How could I? I was me. I wouldn't see the same thing as Cartman. I knew that. He calmed himself down a little before going on, "You worry me sometimes, McCormik." I just noticed. When he says my name, it was as if the R was silent. Now that I mention it, he never pronounces anything with the letter R. Or does he? He said the word 'worry' pretty normal.

What he said almost went right passed me because of my thinking. But I managed, "Why? Because I had a dream, you think I'm a suicidal maniac!?" My arm lifted to punch him in the face. He had no right to assume something like that. I was not suicidal!

My fist didn't reach its destination. It was stopped by that big hand of his. It was almost as big as my face. If he wanted, he could pick me up by the head. I wouldn't like that though. His attention was on me now. He was looking right at me, "I never said you were one! But you're so confusing, you make me wonder!"

"Well, now you know," I stole my hand back from him and turned so my face could rest on the pillow. I didn't want to look at him. He wasn't Cartman. He wasn't acting like himself. He was acting normal. He was acting like that good for nothing Stan, before he turned Goth, "I hate you, Eric." I used his first name. It fit, and it showed I was serious about what I had said.

He didn't do anything really after that. He hardly moved. I guess, I went a little too hard on him, but that was life. If it was rough, get a helmet because this friendship is headed for a rocky road. After five minutes or so, he stood and walked out. I felt bad. I felt like I was in the darkness. I felt alone.

I sniffed in. The scent from the pillow. It was Cartman. It was nice. It was calming. He smelt so amazing. I hugged the pillow and smiled. It widened. I stole a glance of his ass before he left the room.

Wow, I must be bipolar.


	3. DarkCircles

I woke up. It was dark outside. It was dark before I went to sleep, but that was because of all of the damn clouds. It was night. I looked at the glowing green numbers on the clock. They read 8:13. Already? I wasted this day. I rubbed at my eyes. They felt a little better. Better than before at least. I decided to get up, but I took the comforter with me. I put it over my shoulders and headed out the door, into the bright hallway. I could hear the video game from downstairs. Some shooting game. Kyle was still here. I could pick up a "That's not fair!" from him.

I slowly walked down the stairs, peaking my head into the view. I forgot my hood wasn't on. My hair must have looked like a total mess. I just watched them play, but my eyes were mostly on Cartman.

He was sitting on the floor. One knee up (his right leg) and his other leg was curved under the arch his right leg made. His finger pressed the buttons fast and stressful. His eyes were on the T.V.

He was still wearing his jeans, but now I could see his shirt. It was red, but over it was a thin jacket, a darker shade of red. He wasn't wearing his hat either. His brown hair was showing. His long bangs were combed to a side and his hair had a little spike to it. I wonder if he does his hair that way, or if it's just perfect like that all the time.

His eyes looked up at the stairs for a second, then back down at the T.V. screen, as if he hadn't seen anything. He stopped what he was doing and looked where I was again, as if I were some kind of ghost.

Kyle was heard in the background, screaming something like, "Yes! I finally killed you, fat ass!" The controller went flying from his hands, doing a little happy dance.

He wouldn't stop starring at me. I began to blush, then hide my face with the covers. I was contemplating weather I should walk down the stairs or back up them. I couldn't exactly read the expression on his face. Maybe I should just leave. We were just starring each other down. Was this my hint to get the fuck out?

He calmed his face a little, his eyes looked back at the screen. I was about to walk back up the stairs until he spoke out, "McCormick, get yer scrawny ass down here!" He seemed that he had short patients with me. I understood, since I did say I hated him. I regret it now.

Kyle looked at Cartman who just busted into a shout, then up at the stairs when it registered in his brain he was talking to me. His happy face was wiped away. Did I always have to ruin things for other people? It always seems the moment I walk in a room, everyone's expression turns so vacant.

I walked down the stairs so quietly. I was almost afraid to. I hugged the blanket closer to myself, giving me some sense of protection at least. I went over to Cartman, as if he commanded me to sit next to him. I kept a close distance though. I flinched when I sat, maybe thinking he would hit me or something.

He pointed a thick finger Kyle's way, "Jew. Warm something up for him." He eyed him. Not blinking once. Serious again. This wasn't fucking him! I'm pissed. When he acts this way, it makes everything in my rib cage ache and my throat begins to burn. I hated it. Cartman not acting like Cartman was the worse thing. It's just as bad as putting nasty creamers and sugar in coffee.

Kyle froze where he was. He looked down at those eyes, which were looking at him so intently. He nodded once and walked towards the kitchen. What the hell was wrong with everyone? Kyle never listens to Cartman without a fight. He noticed Cartman wasn't done talking. He stopped.

Cartman's eyes weren't on Kyle as he said this, "And I think you should leave after you're done." He closed his eyes now. Why were they acting so strange?

Kyle went into the kitchen.

It was silent for a second. I didn't look at him. He didn't look at me. I put the blanket over my head and pulled it close so only my eyes were visible. My defense.

"Do you really hate me?" He asked. He had this sadness I couldn't even describe, "What do you hate about me?" He looked down, placing his hands on his knees.

"Dude, I didn't mean it. I was mad. I just…" I couldn't finish. I didn't even know what I was saying to start with.

Silence.

I scooted closer to him, he moved away. Had I hurt him that bad? I looked at him now, "What's wrong?"

"Don't touch me, Kenny. Just don't touch me," He stood up looking around, wondering where he would go next. It was his house. Maybe he was searching something else.

"You let me before. What's the difference now?" I stared at him. What has gotten into him? Then again, I wasn't exactly acting like myself either.

"I realized something," he said. Realized? Realized what!? I'm not fucking gay!

I took the covers off me and stared at him for a long moment, "Well, are you going to tell me, or is this a secret between you and the Jewish piece of shit?!" My anger was rising. My heart was racing. Everything in my chest began to ache.

It was as if he never heard me call Kyle a name before. Maybe I haven't. Not out loud at least. But it sounded natural to me. "I didn't tell him," His gaze was on the window now.

I walked over to him, resting my head on his back and wrapping my arms around him (to my best ability). I was instantly pushed away. I stood there alone. My heart was now pounding in my temples and my whole body began to ache. I wanted to fucking cry. What the hell was this? Could I not find someone to give me comfort? The comfort my parents never gave me? I just needed someone to hold me. I wanted that someone to be Cartman. "I fucking hate you!!" I shouted. I repeated myself. I couldn't stop. I couldn't think. He was pissing me off. Kyle was in the other room. No one was looking. Why couldn't I hold you!!

"Just say it! What do you hate about me!?" He screamed at the top of his lungs. Kyle must have known we were fighting. He was just ignoring it.

I fell to my knees and leaned forward so my forehead was on the scratchy carpet. "I don't know!? I don't know!? I don't know!? I don't know!? …" I kept going. When I repeat something, it's constant. Like a fucking broken record. I didn't know why I hated him. Maybe because he wouldn't let me hold him? I don't know? Why wouldn't he? It didn't make any sense. I just wanted to put my arms around him. Feel him. He was always so warm. He always felt like he cared. He was the only one on this fucking planet who cared (about me). To everyone else I was nothing, to him. I was at least something. I needed fucking comfort too! I needed it, now!

What the hell was this? This wasn't me. I must not have had my cigarette. Too bad I already had five. I was acting like a little kid. My toy was taken away and I'm screaming and crying to have it back. I must look ridiculous.

I heard the door shut. Kyle must have left. He knew when he wasn't wanted. Good. He better.

"Stop crying," I heard him say. What a retarded demand. How could I stop? If I could, I fucking would, don't you think?

But somehow, my body started to give out. My sobs stopped and my body just fell to the ground. How does he fucking do it? Every single time. He tells you to do something, it happens. Always. I choked on air a few times, but that was it. My cheeks weren't even wet. I was dry crying? Yeah, if that made any bit of sense.

I heard him move around. I didn't look up. He was messing with his 360. After, I heard the springs of the couch. He was sitting down. I guess, he understood I was just a fool. Just a Goddamn retard laying on his floor. The poor piece of crap, just chilling in the middle of his carpet.

I looked up. He had a bowl in his hands. He stirred it with the silver spoon. Soup. Must have been chicken noodle. It smelled like it.

I was suddenly very hungry. Recap of what I had eaten today: coffee, a smiley face cookie, and a couple bits of a sandwich. My stomach growled, but I stayed where I was.

"McCormick! Don't make me force feed you! I will!" That was a big hint for me to get up on the couch and eat the damn soup, wasn't it? He was in a pissy mood, but that was my fault.

I stood up and slumped onto the couch, not amused. I folded my arms and looked away from him. I was stubborn. I was not going to give him an easy time.

Cartman always had his ways though. He took a spoonful and blew at it, cooling it. He took his large fingers and pinched my cheeks together, causing my face to look like a fish's. He shoved the spoon between my lips and poured the liquid inside. I swallowed hard, then, struggled to get free, "Stop it! Let me go!" He let go and I rubbed at my boney cheeks.

"I warned you," He smirked. He looked like himself. He even sounded like himself, "Now, we can do this the easy way," He stirred the noodled broth quicker, "or the hard way."

I knew the hard way. I didn't want to do that again. I sat closer to him and opened my mouth wide, as if I were at the dentist. God, hate that place. Do they always have to drill holes in your teeth?

He placed the spoon in my mouth a second time, third, fourth, fifth. I'm just ignoring the fact the Jew prepared it. He watched as I swallowed it as if he were entertained by it. The phone rang when I was going for the sixth spoonful. He put the bowl down on the table, then got up from the couch, "God damn it!" He walked over to the phone and picked it up, "What the hell do you want?!"

I didn't really pay attention to the conversation. I just picked the bowl back up and started eating it on my own. Did Kyle have to make the gay Campbell's chicken noodle soup? It was practically all broth and the little chicken 'chunks' that looked like bacon bits. The meat looked like it was punched in the face. Why was it all black and blue looking. Do they stick chicken veins in here or something? I ate it anyways. I'll just blame Kyle, again.

He put the phone down and sat back on the couch in a relaxed position, "Well, Mom's not gunna be home tonight." I didn't have to ask why, he was already explaining, "She's drunk off her ass at another one of those Goddamn parties. Lazy bitch." His feet rested on the table and held the controller to his 360 in his hands.

I took another sip and looked his way. He was kind of cute when he was all pouty like that. I put down the bowl and made a pillow on his lap.

"Get off, Kenny!" He whined.

"Up yours," I made myself comfortable. He wasn't the boss of me, even if he technically was. But still.

He sighed, not doing much after that, but playing his game. He didn't looked down at me, "You have to make things so difficult, don't you?" He pushed the buttons harder as if he were loosing.

I finally got in a comfortable position. The back of my head resting on one of his upper legs and I got a view of his face too. I smiled and placed my hand to his cheek, trying to get his attention somewhat.

As my touch hit his face, he closed his eyes and rotated his head so the front of his face was touching it now. The videogame voice in back of me shouted, "YOU LOSE!" He motion down so my hand was touching his forehead. He revealed his eyes a little, but they still weren't looking at me, "Very difficult." He whispered.

I'm not exactly sure what he meant by that. I didn't want to ask why he wouldn't let me touch him before, it might ruin everything. I didn't really know what to think or really to say. Since my hand was at his forehead, I ruffled those perfect strands of bangs. Messing them up, but of course putting them back to normal. Change of topic, "Kenny Cartman. Kenneth Cartman. Ken Cartman." I smiled, then gave off a confused face. Did I just say that out loud?! I heard my mind say it, but why were my lips moving? Oh shit!

"What?" He looked down at me, almost sharing the same confused look I already had.

"You know," I stammered a little, thinking of what I was going to say, "It has a good ring to it, right?" God, I probably looked as dumb as I sounded. What was I suppose to say? I didn't mean for him to hear it. Wow, I'm not going to get a pretty response from him, am I?

He watched me with strict irritation, then shook his head. His face relaxed to a smile and he pet his hand through my messy blonde locks, "You're so weird," He laughed out his whisper, then looked up at the T.V. screen with his character dead and bleeding on the ground, "but it sounds nice together, McCormik."

My eyes widened, but not for long since they started to burn again. Did he just say that? Compliments and Cartman go together like ketchup and granola treats. Ick, talk about a loss of appetite. But strangely, I liked it. Not the granola treats, but the compliment. He wasn't acting like himself, but he was still himself. Wow, if that made any kind of sense at all, shoot me now. "I think you're going soft on me, Cartman." I smirked, messing with him.

He leaned back a little bit more, so he was in more of a laying position. "Shut up," He said, not really yelling it. It was a moderate tone, "You know I hate it when you're right." He was far from mad when I saw him. He was still smiling.

I blushed. He said that on purpose, didn't he? It seemed way too foreign coming from his mouth. It would be a thousand years when he would admit something retarded like that. Maybe I had actually been here for a thousand years. It felt like it.

"I know you just woke up, but we better get to bed," He pushed up, then stopped. He saw I wasn't moving.

We? We meant: me and him, right? We? Bed? His bed? I sat there, thinking about it, as if I were in that damn math class again. Something didn't want to register that thought in my brain. "But aren't I suppose to go home?" I glanced at him.

"Well, If you want, I can drive you home," He placed two fingers to my cheeks, then forehead. Was he checking my temperature?

Why was laying next to Cartman tonight making my heart jump out of my chest? I've done it many times before. More than enough. Was it because he was acting so differently? I place my fist on my chest and it felt like the blood around my ribs were on fire, it reached to my cheeks. It made his touch feel hot. I sat up quickly and looked away, "Um… I don't care." Now, I was shy? What the hell was this?

He sighed and stood up, "Alright, let me get my keys then." He went towards the kitchen, obviously where he held his car keys.

"Wait!" I shouted before he could step foot into the area. I didn't mean for it to come out so loud. I guess, I was just frustrated, or scared. Something along those lines. I looked down and spoke again, "I wanna stay." It was quieter this time.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get your ass to bed," He turned and headed up the stairs.

I followed.

We slept.

It wasn't long until I woke up from my sleep a few hours after I started. I sat up trying to control my breaths and tears in the dark room, so I wouldn't wake Cartman up too. I left, into the hallway and tripped, once only. I stood up and sobbed hard running down the stairs outside and onto the porch. Where I sat, practically hyperventilating as I search every pocket for my lighter and a cigarette. My hands shaking so bad, I could hardly light the damn thing. I took in the first breath and sighed out. Funny, how something so stupid can calm a person down. A little anyways. Tears were still pouring from my eyes.

I had that dream again.

I was standing on the street. Then, a huge semi-truck from nowhere came right at me. I woke up before it actually hit.

Small pussy ass sobs came from my mouth as I thought about it again. I'm sick of these dreams! The night before I drowned to death. The night before I was hanged. My sobs became louder. The night before that a spinning saw blade cut me in half. That same night, I was in a burning building and the ceiling collapsed on top of me. My sobs were even louder now. So loud I couldn't control it. There was no way in hell I was waking Cartman up. I bit my lip (which my smoke was already on the ground) and pulled at my hair, trying to stop the noises coming from within my throat. It wasn't working. It wasn't fucking working!

The light went on. Shit! His fucking bedroom light was on! Damn it! I stood up and began to sprint down the driveway. Why was I so Goddamn loud?!

The door open. I was too fucking slow. I only just made it to the end of the driveway before I heard Cartman scream, "Kenny! Where the Hell do you think you're going?! Get back in here!" It was a demand.

I would have. I really would have followed that order more quickly, but I didn't want him to see me. I put my hood on and tied it tight, slowly making my way back to him.

He glanced at the ground and picked up what I had left behind. He looked at it, then at me, in disapproval. "You know better than this." He said in a low voice, then shouted the rest, "You better have a fucking good reason for this bullshit!" Those deep dark eyes stared me down. I was in trouble. He would make sure I knew it too.

I didn't say anything. I tried to hide my face by looking at the ground. I was a Goddamn failure in his eyes, weren't I? I sniffed, tears still dripping from my eyes. He couldn't see. I don't think.

"Do you really like staying in muh house!? In muh home, Kenny?! Or is it not fuckin' good enough!?" He stated, louder than before. He was fucking serious. He was fucking furious.

I failed him so much. I wish I was dead. Since, I was already in his eyes. I sucked in small hiccups of air. I hated myself. I hated my face. I made him mad. I hated myself. I rubbed my eyes, but instead I just left my hands at my eyes.. The only thing that would satisfy me is if he took his anger out on me. Even if it was hurting me. I could care less if he beat me to the damn ground and I was bleeding from every part of my body. I just didn't want him to hate me like this.

"Kenny! Are you even listening to me!? Look at me!" He grabbed my head, trying to make eye contact.

I wouldn't. I resisted. "No! Leave me alone!" I struggled to keep my face hidden. I didn't want him to see. Why did he want me to listen? I knew everything. I know I was the biggest loser alive. And I knew I was a disappointment to all.

"What the Hell's wrong with you! Look at me, damn it!" He pulled at my hood, trying to bring my head up.

Before he could, I hugged at his body and gave my face a new hiding place. In his chest. "Stop it! Don't look at me!" I couldn't stop. I let everything go. I cried my Goddamn eyes out. I didn't stop. I fucking hated this. I hated myself.

He was silent.

I could only hear my own whimpers.

He wasn't saying anything.

I cried.

He put his arms around me.

I squeezed tighter.

This was the first time he's ever shown any real emotion back, with me knowing about it. He cared. He never showed it, but he did. He finally opened to me. He finally approved of my actions. He didn't push away. He didn't do nothing. He took me into his arms, and comforted me. Giving me what I have always wanted. He let me in a little bit closer to himself.

He pulled me away a little. I tried to stop him, but he flipped the hood from off my head. He took a long look, "What do you see that I can't, McCormick?" My bangs were sticking to my wet face. He brushed them away.

I watched him. He didn't want to know what I saw. I saw everything differently. Its almost like I'm looking at a different world compared to everyone else. It was a whole different world. A big, screwed up world, only I could see. And Cartman was the greatest of everyone.

Again, I'm not gay, but he was perfect in my eyes. He's judgmental, happy, sad, angry, protective, serious, funny and everything else. Even his bad qualities seemed to have a hold on me. He was real. He was himself. He didn't have to look perfect to be perfect.

"You're not goin' to talk, are you?" He backed off a little. He had this weird softness to his voice, like if he spoke to loud, I would break. I wouldn't. Honest. He brought his thumb up to my eyes and wiped the wet spot under it. Another stream came down. "I don't know what you want me to do. I don't even know why you're doin' this shit." He stood there. Nothing more, nothing less. I guess, he was just waiting for me to calm down.

I knew I needed an explanation. I shivered. "C-can we go back in?" I managed to stutter out.

He nodded once and lead me back inside.

It was back in his room where I actually started the conversation again, but not right away. I explored his room, looking through drawers and his closet. My mission was to find some pajamas. I usually only wear my underwear, but that would be totally awkward sleeping next to Cartman. I was kind of sick of wearing my clothes though.

I picked up a T-shirt with Terrance and Philip on it. I figured he probably wouldn't wear it to school anytime soon. We haven't seen that show on for ages. It was the biggest show alive when we were younger, but the seasons finally ended and all their were was re-runs. It was 'Friends' all over again.

I picked up a pair pajama bottoms with little strings on them, so, I could at least try to tie it to my waist line.

I pulled my coat from over my head and looked myself in the mirror, on Cartman's closet door. I saw his reflection in the mirror. He was laying down in his bed, looking at the ceiling.

"I dreamt about it again," I started. I pulled the new shirt over my head. It was really baggy and fell to a side, so my skinny shoulder was poking through the neck piece. I watched him in the mirror again. His attention was on me to continue, "You, know. Dying." I slid my pants off, but didn't mind since the shirt almost came down to a dress on me (My knees at least). I brought the oversized pajama bottoms to my waist and pulled the strings, until it some-what fit (not really). I tied a bow and the strings hung down to my thigh. I looked at myself in the mirror. It was so baggy on me. No one could ever fill Cartman's shoes as good as he could, himself.

"Having this dream a lot?" He questioned. I couldn't tell if he was looking at my back, or the reflection of me in his mirror.

"Last couple weeks," I replied. I only spoke the truth. I began to walk over to him, "Is this good?" I asked permission.

He nodded, "Its fine." It didn't matter to him, I guess. He got back onto the subject before, "Every night?" He looked a little concerned, but he could probably tell by the dark circles under my eyes.

I nodded. Telling him this out loud made it sound a lot less scary. It kind of made me look like a total pussy. I sat on the bed, next to him and looked away.

"Then, you need to get some sleep." He said simply, almost halfway falling asleep.

I went under the covers and found a nice place to lay. On top of him. My head found his chest, my body rested on his belly, and my feet fell wherever they fell. I looked up, into his face, "Protect me?" I asked in a scared weak voice.

"Whatever, ho," He said almost automatically. He turned his head to the side and soft snores soon found his throat. Out cold. But he would have been already, if I didn't wake him up.


	4. BlackBird

-BEEP!

-BEEP!

-BEEP!

I forgot about waking up so damn early in the morning, but the fucking alarm didn't. I didn't even really feel like moving. Plus, it was freezing again. The only real good thing was, I didn't have anymore nightmares that night. So, I had a better sleep than I usually did. Wonder why.

My hand lifted and tried to shut off the loud beeping noise, but another hand got to it first. I was freaked out at first. I opened my eyes and saw I was in Cartman's room. Almost forgot I spent the night. I was use to waking up in my room.

I heard him swear in back of me. His arm had to reach over me and his hand smacked down at the snooze button, "Damn it…" He whispered in a tired voice, as he arm fell over my body.

I was tempted to snuggle closer to his warmth, but if I did that, I wasn't getting up. I shoved him a little and whispered, "C'mon, dude. Time to get up." My voice was scratchier than I thought. I must have been getting sick. After a few minutes of him not responding to my push and sat up, shivering. "Damn it, Cartman. Get up!" I said a little louder. I could, my throat felt somewhat better.

He rolled over so his back was facing me, "Five mo' minutes." His sentence was followed by snores.

I stole the covers and tugged a little too hard so I landed on the ground with them tangled around me. Half were still on him. Why was I so clumsy? I sighed and just laid there for a couple second before getting myself to stand. I sat back on the bed, watching as my legs hung over the edge of it. I figured I would wait five more minutes before trying again.

I waited only about two.

"Alright. Alright!" He sounded a little irritated, like I was still bugging him to get up or something. He slowly sat up, rubbing at his eyes. He looked out the window, "God fucking damn it." I think he was pissed that the sun wasn't even up yet. He shifted so he was right behind me and rested his forehead on my back, "Shit…" He sighed.

I felt his warm breath on my back. I shivered again, but for different reasons. "It isn't that bad," I tried to reassure him.

"Well, if a poe' piece of crap didn't wake me up last night…" He didn't finish the rest because he felt the rest of self explanatory. It was.

"You'll never let me live this down, will you?" I blinked, trying to keep my vision direct.

"Damn straight, bitch. Now, get ch'oe' bitch ass up and out of my way," He lifted his head from my back and pushed me forward a bit.

"Jesus, give me a second!" I felt the nudge and almost fell on my face again. I got to my feet, but it felt like my head was somewhere else. I was dizzy as fuck. I rubbed my temples and made a seat on a chair, next to his little desk.

He watched me making soft complaining noises, "Stop yo' bitching, Kenny!" He stood up and walked out the room.

I pulled the pajama bottoms up. I guess, the tie loosened in my sleep. I wasn't going to bother tying it again. Pointless. Since, I was going to get in the shower in a few anyways. I went to the downstairs bathroom because the upstairs one was off limits.

I got inside and shut the door. Obviously, since I was taking a shower, I took my clothes off, then took a leak. First thing I do in the morning. Pee. It was cold. I hurried and got behind the curtain so the hot water could warm me up.

I stood there, letting the water soak onto me. It felt good, really. It did. I didn't take long though. I just do what I have to and get out. So, I did.

Scatter brain, again. I left my clothes in Cartman's room. I shook my head and slowly got upstairs. I didn't really hear anything, so I figured I was in the clear. Just snatch my things and change. I walked passed the bathroom. The door was shut and the lights were on. I assumed it was still occupied and no one was in his room.

I opened the door and strolled all in. I froze when I saw that he was inside, looking through his closet.

He didn't really notice me. But, I mean, it wasn't like he was naked or anything. He just didn't have a shirt on (hence him looking through his closet). He was wearing a different pair of jeans. A darker blue. With a brown belt through each loop. His ass looked pretty awesome in those too.

I blushed.

His belly hung over the jeans, but I was kind of getting me hot looking. The little brown hairline went almost to his bellybutton. On his shoulder blade, there was a little black Nazi sign tattooed. It was the stupidest, strangest thing in the world. Why did I spot so many things?

I wanted to squeeze him and pinch those stupid love handles. I wanted my lips to touch those fucking arms. I wanted to bury my face into that chest again. I'm not gay! I swear it! Every bone in my body is straight! Honest!

"You need something, McCormick?" He asked suddenly.

I wasn't ready and jumped a little. Talk about 'Tweek'ing out. I felt even more stupider, "Just… my clothes."

"These?" He pointed to the orange pile on the floor. He looked to me then the clothes again. He walked over to them and bent down to grab them.

Did he seriously bend over? It felt like my eyes were humping all life out of his ass. I walked closer. My eyes glued. But not after my side ran into his desk, feeling like it scrapped my bare skin. My head wasn't exactly on Earth yet, so my body lost balance and I ended up on the ground. The desk's chair followed after me, landing right on top.

I guess, he heard the crash because he hurried over to me and looked down, then away, "Uh, dude." Eye contact was not happening anytime soon for some reason.

I pushed the chair off me and looked at him. Trying to figure out what he meant, "What?" I watched him. I looked down. Holy shit! I knew what was wrong! Hanging off the side of the desk was my towel. It snagged when I fell. Meaning, what the Hell was I wearing?! I grabbed the towel quickly and covered my 'parts' and ran out with my clothes.

Total fucking embarrassment. I can't chew gum and walk at the same time, can I? You don't even understand how fast I dressed. It left me sitting on the couch, just thinking about it. I was an idiot. A dumb fucking blonde.

I heard him walking down the stairs. I didn't look up once. I don't think he did either, since he walked right passed me.

That only shows how much of a loser I am. I put my hands over my face and tried to keep my thinking to a minimum. Maybe I should start walking to school. If I left now, I would make it on time to second hour at least.

He came back and sat down next to me. I guess there was a change of plans today. He handed me a bowl of cereal and he kept his own. He was eyeing the T.V. even if there was nothing on it yet.

I took what was offered to me and I sat, looking at myself in the black screen of the T.V. I was little. Nothing. Nothing compared to him. Our eyes met in the reflection of it, but he took the remote in his hand shortly after. He sat it on his lap and began to eat.

"Dude, I uh… Yeah," Somehow it felt like I was making this a whole lot worse than it was already.

"Shut up," He took in another spoonful and chewed, "Don't worry about stupid shit like that. If it make ya feel any better, I didn't see nothin'." Within a few bites his serving was almost gone.

Mine was still there. I tried to concentrate on what was on T.V. I couldn't add anything else, so I changed the subject, "Where do you think you'll go after you die, Cartman? Heaven or Hell?" It was a random question, I know. But it has been on my mind for some time now.

"Neither," He said, plainly. He eyed me and continued, "Between you and me, I think you're nothing after you're dead. You don't go anywhere. Your mind just shuts off and you're looking at a blank screen for eternity." He took his last bite and put it on the table, "But I wouldn't surprised if you got into Heaven." He smirked.

"Yeah? What makes me so different?" I was a little confused by his answer. He just said neither, but now he's telling me I can get into Heaven. Which, I think, is total bull.

He shook his head and laughed, "Nothing. Nothing at all." He stood up and brought his bowl into the kitchen.

The flashback from before went through my mind.

'What the hell are you talkin' about McCormick? You're as light as a fucking Goddamn angel!'

My cheeks burned with this awkward feeling. Why did it seem like that had something to do with it? He does this on purpose, doesn't he? I always get this weird feeling when I'm in a middle of a serious conversation. He twists words around just so he can do this to me. Man, I wish I knew what he was doing to me, so I could stop it.

He came back with his bowl full again. It wasn't long until he started destroying that too.

I looked at mine. I still didn't even start it. I watched him for a second, "Big guys gotta eat, huh?" I joked with him. I would never go too far with my jokes though. Not like Kyle. Where he would say something like, 'Damn, Cartman. You can feed a third world country with all that food you eat.' Yeah, you'll never hear me saying that to him.

"Big boned," He corrected and went about his business.

I poked his side, "Wow, those are the softest bones I've ever felt," I smiled and let out a few laughs.

"One of a kind, McCormick." He said. Referring to… what, exactly? His 'soft bones' were one of a kind? How come that didn't sound right to me?

I finally took my first bite. Soggy. Great. That's what I get, I guess. I only ate a little bit more before I put it aside. "Dude, you hate Kyle." I said, without much warning.

"Yeah, so?" He looked at me as if that were obvious.

"You invited him," I pointed out, not in a very cheerful way.

"And…?" He said as if it weren't a big deal. Well, it wasn't a big deal, but maybe more of a medium deal.

"Why would you let someone over that you hate?" I asked, running out of patience.

"I let you come over, don't I?" He watched me serious, but only for a second before he nudged me with his elbow, "No, I'm just kidding."

"Well. Then, why!?" It was bad enough he said THAT. You don't joke around with that shit.

"Does it matter?" He watched me, now, as if I was starting offend him or something.

"Yes!" I shouted.

"Can I ask you why it matters? You're friends with him, right?" He said coolly.

I went silent. Why did it matter? I searched my mind for that answer. How could I say what I wanted to say without it sounding gay? "Kyle, he…" I stopped, trying to read words that popped into my vision, "I… It's not him. He just… He doesn't under… He's Kyle." I sat there. All of those words were nothing and my reason ended up being 'Kyle is Kyle.' I smacked my hand to my face having it slide down it. God, was that stupid.

"Well, Yeah." He said with his, 'I knew that,' tone of voice. "Are you jealous?" His voice sounded more teasingly now.

My head shot up, "No, I'm not Jealous!" I watched him, wanting to smack him in the face for even thinking that!

"He won't take your place, dude. You're still my best friend." He put his around my shoulders and whispered in my ear, "To tell the truth… I felt a little bad for the Jew-boy." He blew a warm laugh onto my skin.

Once his face was so close to me, I forgot everything. My mind went blank. What were we talking about?! His whisper came out incoherent when it hit my ear. His low soft voice practically melted my eardrum away. His breath hit my neck and I took in his vibrant breath through my mouth. The air hit my lips and I felt a small kicking throb between my legs. It wasn't much, but enough to get me high.

"Ready?" He stood once again and took our bowls. He left the room and went into the kitchen for the third time.

I laid on the couch. When he left, it felt like all gravity fell on me. The spot under me, where he had been sitting, it was still warm. I nuzzled my face closer to it. I literally felt so high. I wanted something. I didn't know what. I craved something so bad. I bit at my lips. They wanted something. They wanted attention. I brushed my lips across the warm spot of the couch. They tingled. What the Hell was wrong with me. I clutched my teeth, then bit at the cushion. I felt so frustrated. I wanted to kill something, but I was so Goddamn happy at the same time.

"Dude, If you're THAT hungry, you could have had more cereal," It was his voice. He twirled the key of his car on his finger. He was amused.

I was seriously chewing on his couch? Holy crap! I sat up and my high was shot. I wiped my mouth and looked down at the wet spot. Could I get a little weirder today? I was insane already and it was only six o'clock.

When we rode to school, I found out he promised to pick Kyle up. I sacrificed my seat for the back. I needed my space anyways. If they started a conversation, maybe he would forget about me making out with his sofa.

I was staring into space, until Kyle looked back at me, "Kenny, would you mind doing me a favor?" He had that innocent look on him again.

"Sure," I said, not really wanting to, but I'd humor him.

He searched his orange coat pocket and handed me a folded paper with the name 'Stan' on it, "Can you give this to Stan, dude. I really need him to read it." He meant what he said, and I could tell it was important to him.

I took the note and looked at him, "Why aren't you going to…" He answered before I could even finish.

"He said he would kill me if I showed my face to him ever again," He turned back around. I couldn't see him anymore.

"No, let me take it," Cartman interrupted. He fixed his rearview mirror so he could see me, and I could see his eyes.

"I can do it!" I shouted, still frustrated for some reason. Who the Hell did he think he was? I had enough brains to do something so simple. Did he take me for a complete idiot? I'm dumb, but not that dumb!

"I know you can do it, but…" he started.

I finished, "No! I can fuckin' do it, you fuckin' fat son of a bitch!" I pointed at his eyes that were in the mirror.

They grew angry. Pissed as ever.

The car swerved hard to the right, until we were on the shoulder of the road. It stopped immediately and all of our bodies were forced forwards, then back again. Almost getting whiplash.

Cartman got out and opened the back door, where I was. He grabbed me and pulled me closer to his face, the seatbelt digging into my skin. "What the HELL did you call me!?" His grip was way too tight, but the fire in his eyes triggered something.

I wonder if I could push his anger even more. I wanted that. My craving was slowly being satisfied by his rage. "I called you a fucking fat son of a bitch, Cartman! What are you going to do about it!?" I shouted out loud and proud, having this huge smile on my face. I dug my fingers into his sides and pulled myself forward a little more as the seatbelt grinded on me harder. Why did I like it? I wanted pain!

"Stop it, Cartman! Don't do it!" Kyle shouted, from his seat. He seemed worried as fuck.

"Shut up!" He said, but he turned his attention back at me, "I'm gonna beat you to the fucking ground, McCormick!" He screamed back.

"Do it!" I returned words and laughed my damn lungs off. I couldn't stop this happiness. I wanted so much pain! I must have looked so insane.

He lifted a fist up about to punch me. I could tell he wanted to kill me. He wanted to get rid of me. He was sick of me, wasn't he?

"Cartman! No! Remember, he's your friend! You said you'd be there for him, dude! Don't do it! I know you think it will help, but after you'll regret it! Trust me!" Damn it! Kyle was preaching again! And his words were actually making some sense. Unlike mine.

His hold on me loosened. The fury calmed some on his face, but it was still there. "I said I'd protect you," He finally let me go.

I felt like a damn slingshot when he dropped me. I was strapped into the belt good, wasn't I? I finally got my sense of reality back. What was I doing!? I was pissing him off on purpose. So, he could beat me up? Why the hell would I want that from him?

The rest of the ride there, was silent. When the car stopped in the parking lot, I rushed out before the others and into the school. I didn't want to look at either's face. They were probably talking about me. I wasn't insane! I just wanted something! I don't know what!

Passing the halls, I noticed the boy I was suppose to give the letter to. Stan.

He was standing in the corner. His eyes looked darker than mine. His tips were died blonde, but the rest was pitch black. He wore the black gloves where the finger tips were cut off and his finger nails were painted black. He licked his finger and turned a page in a little black book he was reading. I couldn't see the title of the book because of his hand being in the way, but I did manage to get the author's name on the bottom. 'Edgar Allen Poe.' He must be obsessed with the guy. He had on a black shirt with the word 'Nevermore' on it. One of the poet's famous poems.

I took a step his way. Why was I so afraid to approach him? Well, maybe because he looked like a killer. I didn't want to take another step. I didn't want to give this stupid note to him.

"Ken," He said not looking my way until folding a corner in his book and closing it. He rested his head on the wall in back of him as if he had no energy at all. He spoke out again, his voice. It was so different. It was deep, slow, and empty. "What do you want…? You wouldn't be starring at me for nothing…." He looked away, "Even though most people do…?"

Was he serious? They were starring at you because… LOOK AT YOU! How don't you understand that? I'd love to say all that, but it didn't have that much courage on me. "Stan," I said, taking another step forward.

He lift his hand to stop me from saying another word, "It's Raven… My name is Raven…"

"Um, Raven," This was too weird. Plus, wasn't Raven a little girly for a murder look a like. Then again, it was probably a Edgar Allen Poe thing again. "Kyle he…"

He cut me off again. Man, talk about hard to talk to, "Kyle… He fills my soul with such hate… His presence makes me want to hang him by his fragile little throat… I don't want anymore to do with him… Those emotions of his are too… complex…"

I was getting kind of sick of his attitude right now. He's not the only depressed person on this Goddamn Earth! I glared at him and held the note in front on him, "I'm not here to listen to you're damn poetry! I just want to give you this note and leave!"

His eyebrows lifted a bit, indicating my actions were a bit of a surprise to him, but he was back to his 'normal' self in a matter of seconds. He pushed my hand away weakly and watched me, "Tell me something, Ken… Are you sick of this life as much as me…? Does it feel like people don't understand your motives…? They just take one look at you… and expect the worst from you…?"

I couldn't ignore those questions. That's how I felt. It was as if he read my past thoughts. Read them, took notes, and spoke them back in a few sentences. "Wh-why?!" I was still in my bad mood. I still wanted something.

"Poor, confused, Kenneth… You know so little…" He folded his arms across his chest, "What is it that makes you hurt so much…?"

"Hurt?! Nothing's hurting me, you freak!" He was seriously pissing me off now. I regret even staying for those 'worldly questions.'

"Not physically…" He pushed his palm onto my forehead, then to my chest, "Mentally… What is making you so upset…? Why do you cry so much…? Why do you sleep less…? Why do you scare so easily…? Why is your frustration at a point where you can explode with rage any minute… with the proper push…?"

Oh my God! Did he get all of that from a couple words and facial expressions!? He was reading me like a damn book! How the hell was he doing it?! "I don't know?! I mean… None of that…! You just…! I…!" I stopped. I was making an ass of my self with each word.

"You can talk to me… Out of the four of us… I always saw you as the least insane…" He took a seat on the ground. He slouched a little. His eyes were closed, giving off an even darker look from his eyes.

I sat with him. Actually, in front of him. I was least insane? Not if he saw me a couple minutes ago. I took a breath, and looked at the ground.

He lifted my chin so we were watching each other's eyes. His eyes were blue, like mine. "Understand this… Whatever you tell me… will not be repeated… So, if you have something you need to get out… now would be the time…"

"Like what? I don't know where to start?" I was confused about what I had to talk about. I wasn't good with my feeling and how my mind worked. I looked down again.

He lifted my chin again, "We'll start with… something simple…" He released his hand, still starring right through me, "Where are you… or what do you do… when you aren't working or at school…?"

"I'm…" I started, I had to think. It was a hard question since I usually was at work and school most my life. "Hanging with Cartman." I finished, wondering what he would say after.

He nodded as if he understood something, "And… what do you do…?"

I shrugged, "You know, play videogames, watch T.V., the usual stuff." I just thought about it. The 'usual' stuff might not be the same 'usual' stuff for him.

It looked as if he understood anyways, "Do you like it…?"

"Well, yeah," I remembered Cartman saying the same thing to me this morning on the couch. It sounded just like his tone too.

"I bet Kyle hangs out with you guys too…" He said with a harsh spit to it.

"Yeah…" I mimicked Stan's anger.

He looked up at me with a slight shock, "That's… bad for you…?"

I got myself comfortable for this one, "Yes! He wasn't even invited. I mean, he asked ME if he could come over to Cartman's! Who does that ,dude?! And he probably guilt tripped Cartman into saying yes too! He just," The rest was followed with a loud aggravated noise.

It was hardly heard since the tardy bell rang. I didn't care. I wasn't going to first hour.

He cupped, then laced his fingers together and placed him close to his mouth. I think he was hiding a smile. Was that funny to him? I'd show him 'funny!' "I had no idea, dude." My eyes widened. Stan's voice sounded like his own again. Well, for that moment at least. He cleared his throat, and removed his hands, showing his frown again, "Does he get in the way…?"

"All the time!" My mind was back on the subject. This stupid subject practically revolved around me. "I mean, we're having a serious moment and Kyle fucks it up! If you know Cartman like I do, you don't see that a lot!"

"You like the serious side of him…?" He asked me, mellow. Calm.

"Well, sort of. It's not 'him,' but it makes it easier to talk to him. I like the joking side of him too, don't get me wrong. I don't know? I kind of like every side of him." I trailed off a little.

"How does he make you feel… when Kyle isn't there…?" He was getting deeper than I wanted him to, but I wasn't going to stop him.

I scooted closer to the wall so my back was to it. I looked through our memories. So many, "Safe." I looked up as if something was there. I couldn't help, but smile. "I don't feel alone with him. Nothing can hurt me. He'll protect me if they try. He soothes this aching inside my chest, but at the same time… he can make it worse." I looked over at St… Raven and was scared to finish.

He nodded and told me to continue.

"These dreams I've been having. Something bad happens to me in them… but," I swallowed, "I got some sleep last night. I woke up once, but after… when he told me he would… protect me, I… slept." I was stuttering a lot through that. Why was it so hard to say out loud to someone else?

"Something bad happen…? I would think you'd be happy…" He opened his book again and began scanning the page. Maybe he knew this was going to take a while.

"I don't know what happened," The answer was fine for me, for a couple seconds at least. "I wanted him to hurt me. I was pissed. I wanted to piss him off."

He flipped to the next page, "Do you have emotions built up inside you…? Fighting is one way to release such pain…"

I crossed my legs and brought my legs closer to my chest, "I don't know…? I guess, if I was happy with him about to beat me up. But that wasn't what started it. He wouldn't let me take the note to you. He wanted to do it himself. I'm not a little kid!" I held my head, "I just feel so frustrated with everything!"

His finger tips reached at to my temples and he began to rub them in circles. His eyes didn't leave the book in his lap though, "I understand… Are you feeling a strong desire for something…?"

I leaned forward a little, relaxing from the massage, "Yes. I don't know what I want. I want something."

He stopped what he had been doing and turned another page, "Cartman… Have you made yourself comfortable around him…?"

I blinked not sure what he mean, "What?"

"Have you done small things like…. Touch his arm… hold his hand… sit a little too close to him…?" His eyes were on me now. It must have been an important question then.

"Maybe," I couldn't say yes. It wouldn't work that way. But I've done those things around him. To him.

"How does he respond…?" He tilted his head a little.

"He…" I stopped, not wanted to say anything more, "Nothing." That was the truth too.

"Is Cartman your source of comfort when you can't turn to your parents…?" How was he hitting every nail on the head?

"I can't ever turn to my parents. They've done nothing but beat me. Beat me for stupid shit. Shit that isn't even my Goddamn fault!" My anger was rising and I started shaking. Not this again. Why did people have to keep bringing this up?

"Cartman helps you forget about all of that… doesn't he…? He's your escape from that… I bet he's afraid to point out those bruises you have…" How did he know I had bruises? "He probably thinks you'll run away if he asks about your life at home… For a big guy with a high ego… he's scared of the most trivial things…" This was so weird. He hasn't talked to any of us since that day his parents got divorced. The day he turned Goth again. The day he beat down Wendy in front of the whole school. The day he made Kyle cry in public for the first time. The day he became more of a conformist than the Goth kids. "Anyway… off topic… So… He's done nothing back…?"

"I…" What was I going to say? "He hugged me, but that's because I was upset and crying."

"Ah…. So, he has… This didn't happen too long ago… did it…?" It seemed like he knew where he was going with this.

"Last night," I blushed, but looked down to hide it. Just thinking about it made me have that weird feeling again.

"Thought so… You're addicted…" He sat back and opened his book again.

"Ad-dict-ed? To what?" I wasn't understanding. What did this have to do with smoking?

"You've been deprived of comfort your whole life… No one understood you… Until you went to the hospital… Cartman realized he cared… Ever since, you go to his house in your free time… because he gives you that care you've been kept away from… You always go back for more, even if he does nothing back… Comfort is still comfort weather it is returned or not… But once it has been expressed back… you expect more… You want more… You could be… frustrated sexually…" He knew so Goddamn much! But it all sounded so blended together. It was like listening to a doctor. I would know.

"What are you trying to say?" I looked confused as much as I was.

"Tell me Ken… Have you ever kissed a guy…?" He looked right at me. With those murderous eyes.

I backed away a little, "N-no! I'm not gay! I'm straight! Not gay!" What the Hell!? Something felt so wrong all of a sudden! I knew this was a bad idea!

He grabbed my wrists and forced them to the wall. He whispered, "Don't deny it… Not when it's too late…" His face was so close. Closer than I wanted. I saw him close his eyes and move in even closer. Lips lingered close to mine, but did not connect, "Go on… Relieve this frustration Ken…"

My whole body quivered. I'm not gay. Why was he telling me I was? I wasn't. He breathed hard. Each blow hit my lips and that signal went down from my chest, to my stomach, and lower between my legs. That same throbbing feeling was happening again. This time, much more. And again, I was high. I wanted this. Lust was taking over everything. He was fucking right. I understood everything now. I was never loved, and now that I had one taste of it. I needed more!

I started, small and slow, carefully sucking a small portion of his bottom lip. I closed my eyes, he was. Maybe I was suppose to too. I kept the small kisses going. I pictured Cartman's mouth now. I leaned my head forward and deepened the kiss, until his whole bottom lip was in my mouth, sliding out, Smack! Suck, slide, Smack! Suck, slide, suck, suck, slide, suck, slide, smack! Suck, smack! Suck, sliiiiiiiiiide, SMACK! He wasn't doing anything. If I was doing the same thing to Cartman, he'd probably just sit there too. I bit at his lip and slid my teeth off it, "Kiss back, Damn it!!!"

He laughed into my mouth, "Just checking if you're ready." His fingers laced with mine now and he pressed his face closer, returning the favor on my top lip. He motioned his head to the side his mouth wider with each kiss. His tongue glided across my teeth and gums.

It was so warm and foreign. My mouth has never felt something like that ever, unless it was my own. I motioned my lips with the same rhythm as his. My jaw opened more and my own tongue snaked out to quickly touch his, then, retreated. It wasn't bad. I opened it more to taste it again, but something different happened.

He pushed in closer and his tongue invaded my mouth. It was licking every surface of it. His body grinded against mine, with the same rhythm as his kisses.

I tried to fight back with my own tongue. It didn't even work. They were wet and just slid off one another. So, my tongue followed the other who was making laps around my mouth. I wrapped my legs around his waist and pushed my body with his. The pressure was building.

Wait, this was wrong, wasn't it?

No, this is what I wanted!

No, I'm only doing this because…

Shut up! You want this!

Stan's tongue did one final twirl around my mouth, before he pulled away. He un zipped my coat and of course I wasn't wearing anything under it. He removed it from my shoulders and hung from my elbows. He began to glide his tongue across the my neck and shoulder. He chose a spot, right in the middle of my neck.

God, guilt was starting to pour over. "That's enough," I said, hoping he'd stop. I had to admit, it did relieve something, but left behind the bad feeling of guilt. Well, I didn't really have anything to be guilty about. I mean, we weren't really doing anything. It was under control, right? So, no harm done. And I'm still not gay. I swear it. Stan liked to call it "love deprived." Maybe it was a weird mental condition.

He stopped what he was doing and looked at me, "You're an easy one to please, aren't you Ken?" He smiled, haven't seen him do that for awhile. Even when he was his normal boring self. He untangled my legs that were around him and stood up, but not before he picked his book up. He walked down the hall, reading that damn book with a cheerful look on his face. Weird.

I shrugged it off and got up. I figured I'd go to my spot and smoke one before second period started. No use going now. It didn't matter really. I felt relieved and maybe I could actually go on throughout the day. As long as I wasn't gay.


	5. PainKiller

Frustration. It was building again. I couldn't sit still during fourth period. I needed more again. My face burned and I had a strong urge to just touch myself. I couldn't stop picturing kissing Cartman in my mind. Kissing me. Having his way with me. It was too unbearable to sit through. And people were starting to notice too.

I quickly rose my hand, "I have to go to the bathroom!" I stood up and sprinted out of the room, without having the teacher give me permission, or even I Goddamn pass. I ran to the bathroom. I looked around. No one. I ran into a stall and closed it shut. I pulled my pants down as fast as I could and sat on the seat.

My dick was throbbing worse than all fucking Hell! It was like you had a fucking itch, but you aren't allowed to scratch. It keeps reminding you it's there.

Throb… Throb! THROB!!!

I took it in one hand and got a loose grip on it. Believe it or not, this was my first fucking time even touching the damn thing (Besides peein'). I know, pathetic, right? I slid up and down, slow. But this feeling wouldn't go away. It worsened and it only made me become harder, "Fuck!" I cursed. I was screwed.

I pumped on it harder, and tightened my grip a bit. After awhile, it felt kind of good in a painfully irritating way.

I used both hands now. I noticed I was leaking a little, but ignored it for now. I went fast. It wanted me to. I laid my head back on the upper portion of the toilet and my breaths became heavy. My whole body was shaking and my stomach was in knots, as I uncontrollably pumped on myself harder.

This feeling was building up. This pressure rising so high, I thought I wouldn't be able to take it anymore. Wouldn't this feeling go away?!

Cartman's voice spin through my mind:

"Angel!"

"One of a kind, McCormick."

"I said, I'd protect you."

"What do you see that I can't, McCormick?"

"I realized something."

"Do you really hate me?"

"Well, I don't know? Then, you'd have to marry me and be my bitch. You think you're up to that, McCormick?"

"Whatever, ho."

"He won't take your place, dude. You're still my best friend."

Intense pressure came, then… nothing. I felt fine. That feeling vanished. I looked down. Now, that, was a different story.

I brought my hands up. They were covered in white. My eyes watered, almost tearing. I came! Holy shit! I came! I was freaking out! Mostly because I came when I was thinking about Cartman. "Oh my God!!" I wasn't gay! I couldn't be! This wasn't right. What was I doing?!

I quickly ran out and washed my hands. After I was done, they still smelled like my mess. I washed them again. And again. And Again! But it didn't help. The fucking sin I just did would never go away now. I cried in there, looking at my pathetic stick figure, "Oh my fucking God…" I sobbed, "I'm… I'm…" I choked on tears that rose up from my throat, "Gay..!"

I held my face in my hands. I was so ashamed. What would Cartman think? …Wait. Could I tell him? He's my best friend, but would he understand…? No, I would just ruin my friendship and I'd… be left with nothing. I can't tell him. What should I do? Where would I go now? Should I run away? Run far, far away? Until my legs gave out? Until I stopped, laying on the ground? Ready to die?

Tears came quicker. Air seemed harder to get when my throat was so burnt because of the outside cold. I was getting a cold. I could feel it too. But that wasn't my first thing I was worrying about.

"Cart…man…" I whispered between sobs. Was I going to tell anyone? They would all kill me. Burn my body and leave my ashes so someone could make them into chocolate milk.

My thoughts were so gross! So disgusting! If anyone could see me now, they would think I was a sick fuck! Anyone! Everywhere! What have I just fucking done?! It was nasty. Nasty as all Ungodly Hell! It would make anyone cringe in their seat, no matter how mature or immature they were. No matter if it was a guy or girl. All would be disgusted! ALL!

No, no! This was all wrong! All fucking wrong! I'm not gay. No, not at all. Never. I just need to clear my mind. I was over reacting, right? This isn't me.

Out there. Somewhere. Somehow. I'm sorry you had to experience that. Without warning. Warning not much myself had. But I didn't enjoy it as much as you think. No. I don't just walk into random bathrooms and start jagging off. This would be a once in a lifetime thing. Nothing more, nothing less. I am sorry. My actions were twisted and wrong. My reasons were poor and uncontrollable. There was something inside me that was growing.

I have a feeling… Stan's kiss was the essence of this new growth. There was no relief. It was like getting drunk. It numbed the pain, but the longer you wait, the worse it gets. My problems were still there waiting for me.

It was all innocent before. Now, I don't know? To a whole different level. I wouldn't let that happen. Never.

This unstable body that lays in this reflection (Bathroom mirror), will stand strong. I wasn't me today. I looked like a different person. A whole new body stood before me, and yet, his appearance stayed the same.

"I'm sick. I'm wrong. I'm twisted. I'm insane. I won't think these thoughts again." He was my friend, nothing more. I wouldn't let that happen EVER! "It's fake. Not real. An illusion. Nothing. I won't think these thoughts again." My reflection spoke the same words back. It kept my mind straight, for now.

I heard clapping. From the door. Someone was here?! "Nice… And, now, I thought you hated poetry… by the way you talked down on it…" It was Stan. He was leaning against the entrance and watched me with really no other emotions on his shoulders.

I glared at him. He was listening to me? What the Hell? Can't a guy go into a bathroom without someone puttin' their ear up against the stall? "Shut it, Goth f-" I couldn't get my last word to roll off my tongue. The word 'fag' couldn't leave my mouth. That's what he was. Why couldn't I say it?

He shrugged as if what I said had no effect on him at all. He walked towards the sink next to the one I was standing in front of, "Deep, yet oddly self negative…" He smile brushing those badly dyed bangs aside. "I like it…"

"Shut up…" I held my head, I felt like I had major motion sickness, "How much did you hear?" I looked at him through the mirror.

"Enough…," He leaned forward and pulled a small black pen out of his pocket. He popped the top off and traced the bottom of his (already black) eye, "Enough to know that you might actually be better at words than me…" He handed the opened cap eye pen to me.

"I'm not wearing that," I ignored what he had said, then cocked an eyebrow his direction as if he was crazy for even thinking I would take the pen. What the hell was I going to do with his emo make-up? I'm not a chick. I'm no drag. And I'm certainly not gay, just confused a little bit.

"Come on. It doesn't hurt…" He held it like it was some normal pencil or something. "I'll help put it on…"

"Hell no." I said simply.

He grabbed my hair and my head cocked back, me staring at the ceiling. He held me still and used his thumb to pull my eyelid, almost out of my fucking skull. Then, to make it worse he started drawing on the sensitive part of it. He was starting to struggle to keep me still, "Stop movin' around, dude…!"

"Stop it! St-stop! It's fuckin' up my eyes!" I couldn't close my eye, he had it fucking pride open between his fingers. His gay ass black finger nailed fingers! I finally got away from him and rubbed at my eyes, "Shit, dude!" I looked into the mirror. I looked weird. My eyes looked… really really blue, or something.

He popped the top back on in victory, "Now, you look hot…" He gave me a wink and headed out.

"Whoa, whoa, wait! What!?" Did I say I was confused before? I thought me and Stan were only friends, Ya know. I know I was kissing him, but that was only for my frustration, right? …But was he fucking hitting on me? He's not gay! …but… didn't I just call him a Goth fag? What the Hell's going on!?

He stopped and leaned against the exit, "Nothing…" His empty smile was kind of weird looking. Kind of freaking me out. "Shouldn't you have a nickname too?"

"Nickname?!" What was he talking about?

He took the earring out of his ear and pulled a lighter from his pocket. He clicked the lighter on and heated the earring tip on the flame. He walked over to me again and grabbed my head once again.

My eyes shifted from him to his figure in the mirror. I was so Goddamn scared. What the Hell was he doing now?! "St-Stan! No! Get the fuck away from me, dude! I swear! I'm not playin'!"

"Aw, 'playin,''" He said in a teasing baby voice (which was kind of creepy by the way), "So ghetto. Sounds nice…" He held me back and shoved the earring into my right ear.

I screamed. I don't know if it hurt or I was just surprised. "Fuck, dude!" The piece of jewelry fell and I instantly grabbed my ear, "Shit! What the Hell's wrong with you!?"

Before I couldn't say much more, he had me pinned to the wall. He put the earring back into my ear (less painfully this time, for obvious reasons) and put the clasp on it, to keep it in place. He flicked at the little cross hanging off it. "Cross," He whispered and gave me a peck at the lips, "You're mine."

Things were going way too fast. I'm not even gay! But I couldn't do much else though.

"Don't forget that…" His thumb went from the side of my lip to my cheek as he slowly pulled away. He made his exit for sure this time.

"What the Hell!?" I grabbed my forehead. What was I, like property to Stan or something. Or should I say 'Raven.' I watched my reflection. Why was I loosing myself each time I looked at myself? It will be a cold day in Hell when I change who I am. I pulled my hood over my face and walked out of the bathroom as the bell rang. It was lunch, meaning no lunch. Time for me to think.

My spot again. I sat on the concrete and took a long, hard hit from my light. I was so confused. I wanted to cry again, but I had a feeling nothing would happen. I hid my face in my free arm and sat there for a long while, "Can someone just shoot me?"

"Shut the fuck up, McCormick," It was Cartman. I knew his voice. And by the way he said that, I could tell he was far from being in a good mood.

"Dude, Just go back to class. I don't want your damn lunch," I muffled from my arm. I didn't look up. I only hid my face further.

"Your fucking welcome!" I heard the bullshit food fall to the ground. He shifted in the snow a bit, probably trying to keep his rage under control. He finally sat down next to me. I could feel those eyes on me.

"I'm not in the mood. I'm dealin' with too much bullshit right now," I spat, uncovering my face a little to take a drag, but turned my head so he couldn't see me. I wasn't giving him the time of day, was I?

"I don't get it. I don't get you. I help your sorry ass! I actually take fucking time out of what I'm fucking doing to fucking help yo poe' ass! And yo still not happy!" His eyes were still digging at my head.

"You can only give me so many personal possessions," Why did I feel tears now? "but a poor piece of crap is still a poor piece of crap, even if you dress it as a rich piece of crap," I didn't know what that meant, but I hoped it made more sense to him.

"Well, what do you want? How can I fucking help you, if I don't know how to?!" I was being unreasonable, wasn't I?

"You have nothing to give," I stood. I was going to leave. There was no point in staying at that place. Not now.

I felt him pull at my shoulder. I resisted. Who the Hell did he think he was trying to stop me?

"What the fuck does THAT mean!?" I heard him shout from behind me, "Do I not give you enough shit!? I only do almost everything fo you!"

"Leave me alone," I pulled forward, but was only pulled back.

"What the Hell are you running away from? Stop acting like nothing's wrong! I know something's up! You never bitch this much!" He wasn't taking this seriously, was he?

I still didn't face him yet, "I'm scared."

"Of what?" I noticed his voice change drastically. Low. Soft. Maybe he did care.

I finally got the guts to face him. The redness on my cheeks didn't seem to go away the whole time we were talking. "Me."

"I don't understand," He watched me, as if something on my face would give him the answer he was looking for. My face? No. Nothing on the outside could tell him. Only the things trapped in my head.

"You're better off staying far away from me," I left taking a new route, around the school. At least, until I turned the corner. I heard Kyle yelling for Cartman. I stopped and planted my back onto the brick wall of the school. I was out of sight, but not out of hearing distance.

"Cartman! Cartman! Why are you out here!?" He was probably waving him down like a Goddamn prep. As if anyone could miss his voice. He stopped and let out a few pants before controlling his breath. "You ok? I saw you out in the hall, but I guess you didn't see me." My ass! He was ignoring you, Jew-boy.

Cartman sounded a little unsure what to tell him, "I… Just needed… Some time alone." He wasn't going to tell on me? He would cover everything up? He wouldn't let Kyle into my business? He was nice. For the first time, I see him as 'nice.'

"Everything alright?" I can picture that fake sympathetic look on his face. He made me so mad. I mean, a single word makes you want to slap him in the face.

He didn't answer right a way. "Yeah, just straightening shit out." Kyle just HAS to push things! What if he didn't want to answer you! Shut up!

"You don't look alright," He said with a suspicious voice. His footsteps indicated he was walking around, checking things out. Hopefully not Cartman. Those steps were getting louder, but stopped, not getting close enough for him to see me, "Kenny was here, wasn't he?" What?! How'd he guess?!

I could tell he was nervous. He didn't want to say, but he kindda had no choice at this point, did he? "Maybe," He sighed, shuffling snow through his shoes.

"There's a point where you help him, and when you stop and get him professional help. He's not getting better, is he?" Were they seriously talking about me? So, in the car. They weren't talking about Stan being depressed?

"Shut up, Jew. Everything's fine," Cartman really was defensive. He could listen to Kyle's preach, but believe in something else at the same time.

Kyle sounded like a little bitch who can't get his way. "Don't tell me to shut up, Eric Cartman!" Like using his whole name would help any, "Do you enjoy hurting him!? Because that's what you're doing by sitting there doing nothing! Not giving him the proper help! He's going to get worse and it's all your fault!" They acted like I had a sickness or something. Even if I did have depression, it wasn't a disease. It wasn't even serious. Plus, it wouldn't kill me. "I knew you were an ass hole, but not a killer!"

"Shut up!" Cartman's voice was louder and more aggressive. "You want to see a killer?! Piss me off some mo' and yer balls will be down yo' little Jew throat!"

"Calm, Cartman! I meant that in the least offensive way possible! Dude, forget all of this! Forget fighting with me! Kenny's sick! His brain doesn't function properly! He needs professional help!" …no, I didn't. What is he talking about? Kyle was making a complete fool of himself. I was about to come out there and smack him a few times.

"Kenny's fine with me! Do you really think stickin' him in a padded room will get his mind straight?! No way, Jew! No fucking way!" Cartman was starting to scare me. He was really getting mad, wasn't he? But padded room? Never. No. I don't want that.

"You may think you're helping him… but keeping him inclosed to himself…" Kyle started.

"He'll open up to me!" Cartman's shout sounded like it echoed through the whole ten yard radius. "He just needs time." He whispered.

There was nothing after that. I took my leave then, before anyone saw me leave the school. I went to the only place I felt I could. I sat on top the hood of Cartman's car. There, where it wasn't long until I saw said person come to view. I pretend to ignore him and shoved my hood on and laid down.

I noticed he stopped by my side, but didn't say anything. He was stripping his mind with something to say, but nothing was cutting it. "Let's go."

"Go?" I questioned, running a finger through one of my bang strands. I knew what he meant, but would he admit it?

"Go. Go home. My house. I think we should talk." Half his ass made a seat on the bumper of his car. He took his hat off and rustled through his hair before putting it back on, "What do you say to that?"

"I say… Fine. But," I sat up straight and watched him, "couldn't we talk here?" I tilted my head. When he needed to say something, he always came out in say it no matter who was around. Since when did he become insecure with his words?

"I feel it's better if we didn't, McCormick," He met my eyes with some sad ones. They met mine, until they got too red and he turned his head, "Come." He spoke up and cleared his throat, before getting into the vehicle.

I followed.

As we sat inside, he took my hand in a tight grip, "Do I hurt you?"

When he said that it almost broke my heart. This was all fucking Kyle's fault. Putting that bullshit in his head, "Of course not." I squeezed tighter (Well, tried), "You make me stronger." I said intently, looking right at him.

He let go of my hand and took the steering wheel. Just when I thought I changed his mind about that, he said something back before starting the ignition, "I really wish I could believe that."

I held my rejected hand with my other and gave him a look of disbelief, "What!? I'm fine, dude! Don't worry about me!" He shouldn't do this. This was all Kyle's fault! He makes things so difficult!

He was about to pull out, but stopped, jerking us both forward in our seats, "How?" Simple question, right? But it was one of those questions teachers give you on 'critical thinking' and your answer ends up being at least two paragraphs long. He slouched his head forward on the steering wheel, "How, when you do this shit!?" Was I pissing him off? "You do this fucking shit over and over again! You can't learn from your mistakes, can you!?" Something was happening. He was getting emotional. I understood. He was mad, but not at me. He was sad, not because of me. It was toward himself, but it wasn't his fault.

"Don't let that fucking Jew tell you anything! He's a fucking lair! I'm fine! You have nothing to worry about, dude!" I don't know if I was taking my anger out on him, or I was trying to comfort him. I wasn't doing great at either one.

He shook his head, "No."

I was pissed. No. No? That's all I got?! He was telling me I had a problem, Kyle tells the truth, and he needs to worry about me?! Well, fuck him! "I hate you." I said, my anger wasted by my thoughts and it came out more empty. I opened the door and ran back into the building. I ran. I run from my problems. I run when conversations get too hard. I'm not sick. Well, not sick in the mind. I ran to the bathroom and sat by the toilet. I wanted to throw up. But the only thing I got was a few dry heave attacks and a few smoker's coughs. I regretted not eating lunch.

I sat there. Thinking about what I'd just done. It didn't seem too smart, but I'm not the one to think when people are calling me crazy. I know you wouldn't be. I mean, look at me. I'm not some maniac that runs around eating people's faces off. I just have a lot going on.

Was I blaming Cartman than? I said it wasn't his fault, but was I blaming him because he thinks I'm all psychotic (When I'm not)? I guess I've been self absorbed with all my problems that I haven't even given him the light of day. I've been putting more weight on his shoulders because he's been carrying me and my problems too.

Well, he shouldn't be worrying about me! He wouldn't have to! It's not like he actually cared about one of his friends before! He always said he hated me for no Goddamn reason before (When we were younger)! Why start caring now? It's not worth it!

Was I blaming him again…?

"How?" Cartman's question rang through my ears as if he were sitting right there next to me. I even looked. No one. I was sitting in an empty stall. Empty bathroom. In this Hell people call school. "How?" I guess I was getting a little side tracked. There was me complaining again and I was suppose to be thinking about, "How!?"

What did he mean? What did he mean by 'How?' Easy, you just do it. Stop worrying about me and move on. You always make it sound so easy, you do it yourself. This is no exception! Just do it! "Forget about me, you fat fuck! I'm not worth it!" Those words slipped out of my mouth, but I could care less because no one was in here. I whispered once more, "Forget about me…"

The question rang at my ears again, "How?"


	6. FearPressure

For whatever reason, I went back to my original schedule. Just get today over and sleep. Sleep my fucking eyes out. Right our of their sockets. They needed it. Seriously.

Math. Again. I walked in and everyone was sitting down, doing homework or whatever. I must have been late, again. I went over to my seat and was about to sit down when the teacher signaled for me to go over to her. I sighed and gave her an irritated look. Another one of her 'talks.' God damn it.

"Kenneth, I have a problem with your tardiness," She looked through her papers, "And with everything else. I don't think you're taking this seriously."

"Yeah? What of it? Gunna drop me from your class and give me a study hall?" I made a seat on her desk and watched her with hate, "I'll just ditch that too."

She stacked her papers and put them to aside, obviously ignoring that I was sitting on her desk. "I knew you would say that. I've been looking at your records. I believe instead, you'll be visiting the counselor's office instead of this hour. You can make up your last credit senior year." She began writing on a little grey card, "I'll write you a pass for now, but you'll report straight there after today." She handed me the card, "I'll see you next year."

My face turned to shock. "Are… are you kidding?" Was she serious? She was handing me a pass to leave her classroom for the year to visit some retard down at the office? I took the pass and made my way out the door. I tied my hood up tight and stopped at the doorway. I felt Kyle's eyes on me. I was ashamed. I felt like a complete failure. I was a loser.

Out in the hallway. All I could do was look at the grey piece of scrap paper. My legs kept walking to the office, but I wanted out the door. Something told me not to. Maybe I wouldn't have Cartman worrying so much. He shouldn't have been in the first place. Damn. Damn it! I had to fucking go now.

I walked into the office. It was cold. The only place in the school that was air conditioned in the middle of winter. Like I said, a bunch of retards. I walked up to the counter to some ugly bitch.

She looked like a cat and a pig fucked each other's ass and spit her out. "Yes?" She had this really grainy grandma voice that could break glass if loud enough.

I handed her the pass and shoved my hands into my hoodie pocket. I didn't want to talk. Not to her anyway. Waste of my time and breath, and who knew how much longer I had.

She stamped it for some retarded reason and pointed to the room in back of her, "Right behind me. Ms. Morgan is waiting there." She shoved me off and chewed her nasty gum with her nasty yellow and brown teeth.

I snatched the paper and walked to the room with the glass window no one could see through. The sticky letters spelled out Ms. Morgan. What ever happened to my grade school counselor who's every other word was 'M'kaye.' Who was this bitch? I opened the door and walked inside.

It was one of those places where they tried to make it look 'comfortable,' but it really wasn't. Just like the dentist. I kind of felt like I was in the waiting room or something. There's toys and books. What was this? A kindergarten classroom?

"Oh, Mr. McCormick. Come in. Take a seat." she was sucking up, wasn't she? With that big fake pepped up smile of hers. It was better than looking at pig face counter lady though. She wasn't bad looking, she was just a good for nothing prep.

"No, I'm good. I'll stand," I said, closing the door and leaning against it. I wasn't going to listen to her. No matter how much it killed me. Screw her and my math teacher. Screw Kyle's pity and Stan's gayness. And most of all screw this school. No, scratch that. This town. No, even scratch that. This world.

She gave me a shrug and returned another one of her smiles, "Whatever makes you feel comfortable." She stood so she could stand next to me.

I scooted away. Personal space. Ever hear of it lady? I don't even fucking know you!

"Oh, how rude of me. My name is Ms. Morgan," She didn't make any attempts to stand closer to me. What a relief, "I heard about your grades in school, and your behavior."

"And let me guess, you're here to change that," I gave her with a bored tone as if I heard it a million times. I have, "Hooray…" I crossed my arms and looked away, at a wall or something.

"Well, I believe if a person wants to change, they will. People can't change other people, but they can effect their own personal opinions which will cause them to change into something they don't want to be." She looked my way. Her eyes were brown, "Do you agree?"

I took a quick glance and kept my vision on the wall, "Like I know?" I got off the wall and walked forward. Her statement made some kind of sense. She might know what she's talking about, but I could care less, right?

"Well, now. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?" She walked to her chair and gave me another one of those bright smiles. I think I was going to puke with an over dosage of peppiness.

"Um… Sure, I guess." Like I knew where to begin. I headed for the big lay down couch thing, but I didn't sit down quite yet.

"What do you think of this school? Do you like it? Do you like the people in it?" She gave a curious look, like she actually cared. The bitch was some actress, I'll give her that. Must get a lot of money for this bull shit.

"Sucks ass," I said simply. What else was there to say?

"What makes it 'suck ass'?" I was kind of freaked out, that an adult in school actually said something like that. The teachers are usually fucking strict about that sort of thing.

"Well, for one thing, people act nice and happy, but they really couldn't give a damn," I sent that one straight to her and made myself a seat.

It went straight over the dumb bitch's head, "I see. Is that how your friends treat you?"

"One, but I'm not getting into that," Yep. You guessed it. That one was for Kyle.

"Do you have a best friend?" She smiled, as if she was getting on a lighter note.

"Yeah, I do." Was she expecting me to tell her, or something?

"How dose he or she make you feel?" She swerved right around it and came back with one of those famous 'how does that make you feel' bullshit questions.

"Fine," I checked the room for a clock. None. Damn it! This would take forever.

"You spend a lot of time with them? You know, hang out." She really was getting on my nerves.

"No," I said sarcastically, "I just have a best friend I never see and don't communicate with!" I rethought that. I kind of did feel like a long time, even if it wasn't too long ago. And we haven't had a real conversation in God knows how long.

"Are there problems between you and your best friend right now?" She read my expression pretty clearly, didn't she?

I untied my hood a little so I could breath a little bit, "Maybe. I think it's my fault, but he thinks its his. He and Kyle think I'm sick."

"Sick? Sick with what?" She questioned, a little surprised.

"I overheard a conversation. I think they think I'm depressed or something, but that's not even a disease. They shouldn't worry about that." I couldn't leave this alone. Even if she was a bitch, I wanted to know this answer. Bad.

"Well, depression comes from the mind. It takes a long time to fix it to its normal state, but if you let it go, it can get worse. People can get mental diseases that change their lives and the people around them. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with you. Some things happen that is no one's fault. These things can happen to the most regular normal people alive." Tell me about it. Just look at Stan Marsh. Wait, why the Hell am I talking to a fucking shrink and he's just wondering the Gaddamn halls. Gay! Hella ass gay! "The ones closest to you, have they started to act differently?"

"Stan's Goth because of his parents getting divorced. Kyle's still the girliest girly guy alive. As for Cartman…" I had to stop and even think about that myself. Has he? "Well, before, he didn't give a shit about anyone. No matter who they were, what they did, and how they acted. He hated and made fun of everyone."

"Do you know what made him change?" She said very carefully.

Oh God. Here was the story again. I always tried to get out of talking about this too, but whatever.

"Well, it was late at night, a few years ago. Me and him were just goofing off. We wanted to spray paint the principal's front lawn with spray paint and stuff. We wanted to write 'ugly bitch' on the snow. I mean, huge. Big massive letters. I was going to work on the word ugly because obviously he wanted the word bitch.

"I remember him saying something like, 'You fuck this up, Kenneh, I'll kill you!' He never really got caught when I came along. Kyle was usually the screw up who thinks about 'how bad it is' two seconds after he does it.

"Cartman was done spray painting , but I was still going at it. I guess the principal saw us. I didn't notice. Cartman did and just left, laughing. I wondered where he was going, until I saw the bitch, herself, come out of her house. I dropped what was in my hands and ran as fast as I could. Cartman was in the bushes, laughing and waving me down to get me to cross the street.

"He shouted over to me, 'That was awesome! Now, get your poe' ass over here before you get me caught!'

"I was happy. He was so fucking proud of me. Don't know why? He was, that's all that really mattered to me. As long as I did something right. I ran and began to cross the street as fast as I could.

"I stopped, Cartman looked scared as fuck, 'No, Kenneh! Go back! Get back, you fucker!'

"I didn't know what he was talking about. I didn't move. I looked around wondering if it was just a joke. Wouldn't you think, why go back? You're in deep shit if you do. Then, I heard the beeping. Just then, I noticed I didn't look both fuckin' ways before crossing the damn street. This big pickup truck hit me. I remember flying backwards and landing hard. After that, it was mostly just screaming and blurs.

"I woke up in the hospital. I didn't remember what day it was or what time. A lot of my body was in bandages and it hurt really bad, but I do remember Cartman asleep next to me. He was sitting in a chair, and his head and arms rested on my bed side. He held my hand close.

"If only you could see his face. He looked peaceful and nothing compared to that night. He was so innocent and was as if he didn't do that at all. I really wish I could add more, but I can't. It's one of those things you would have to see to believe.

"He woke up not long after and looked up at me with that dazed look, like 'where the fuck am I?' I just laughed at him.

"He gave me a stare, 'Shut up.' Then, he looked at me with so much joy, it wasn't even funny. He practically sprung up and hugged the little life I had in me. He whispered, 'You scared the fucking shit out of me, Kenneh. I thought you were dead. Thank fucking God you're alright.'

"I kindda just let him hug me since I didn't have the strength to shove him off. Actually, it was kind of a surprise to me because he never gave a shit about everyone else. It made me feel a little good. Who wouldn't?

"He pulled away a little and played with the little locks of hair that hung over a huge bandage that went criss-cross around my head. He said, with a sincere smile, 'Have I ever told you that you're my best friend?'

"I smiled back and gave him an answer, 'Maybe. Yeah, I think so.'

"He pressed his forehead against mine and spoke again, 'Well, I mean it this time.'

"He actually stayed with me everyday I was there. Once and awhile, Kyle and Stan would drop by, but Cartman always stayed. When I left the hospital, I found out from Stan and Kyle that Cartman sat next to me the entire time I was knocked out. He didn't move from that chair, he did nothing but wait until I woke up. Even when there was a really slim chance of me waking up. I think… he saved me."

She was sitting back in her chair now, "It seems like you have quiet a connection with this Cartman. You wouldn't mind if he came to one of our meetings, would you?" Did she think I was going to allow that? Seriously.

"I would mind," I said starring straight at her, "A lot."

She nodded, "I see. You yourself aren't even use to coming here, are you? It's fine. Maybe some other time." She marked something on her clipboard, "Anyways…"

I cut her off, "No. He's not. He won't step one foot into this office! Understand that?"

She watched me with a little shock. Yeah, like I'd let Cartman into my business. That's one thing, I didn't want him inside my head. I already said too much to this skank, even though it helped a little to get it off my back. Still… "Well, Kyle came to me. He would like to talk to you."

I bolted up, pissed as ever, "Why!? So, he can preach to me?! Thanks, but no thanks!" I went over to the window so I had something else to look at besides her ugly face.

Nobody was out there. No one playing. Why? Because we were all trapped in this Hell hole of a school. Did I feel sympathetic? No. The preps of the school deserve the punishment. Me… I don't. It's not like I did anything wrong. Maybe I could convince Cartman into putting all the snobby ass bitches into concentration camps. They deserve it. Kyle would be the first one to go.

"You seem to have hostility when talking about Kyle. Why is that? Isn't he your friend?" Questions, questions, and more questions. I was only here to answer these stupid questions, wasn't I?

"He is, but…" I blanked. Flat lined. Nothing came to me, but an excuse eventually hit me, "He tries to solve the world's problems. Some people don't want to be saved and some can't be helped. He has to learn that. He tries way too hard on impossible things that have no Goddamn answer. He always wants to the 'right' thing!"

"Well, Kyle's doing a very brave thing. He came to me in your time of need. We're all here to help you get through this," Through this? Through what? Nothing was wrong with me! She gave back the innocent smile of hers. I could tell. I saw the reflection through the window.

I turned and my yelling began, "Kyle!? I knew he had something to do with this! I hate that Jew so much! He never gives up and he'll never shut his stupid ass mouth!" My back slid on the wall and I was sitting on the ground now, "I'm stuck in this claustrophobic room answering retarded questions because of that bastard! Goddamn it!" I felt like pulling my hair out. No, I felt like pulling his stupid Jewish heart right through his rib cadge. "Fuck!"

That didn't even seem to phase her. My complains went through one ear and out the other. Stupid broad! Dumb ass bitch! "Does Cartman feel the same way about Kyle? Does he have a disliking for him too?"

I calmed a little since screaming my lungs wasn't doing any good. I thought about the question, "He use to." I brought my legs closer to my chest, "He hated him more than anyone… but I think… they're friends now." That thought put me in a lousy mood.

"So, What you're saying is that Cartman 'hated' Kyle for most of their friendship?" Wow, find that out all by yourself? Genius, you stupid bitch.

My head rested on the back of the poorly painted cinderblock wall, "Yes, before Kyle he use to pick at me. Little stuff like being poor, using food stamps, and smelling like old milk. Then, Kyle came along and it was Jewish this, and Jewish that. And don't even get me started with Butters! That gay ass hole!" My arms rested on my knees, but my hands were in fists.

"Ah, I see," She said like she understood me personally. I'm sorry, but no one will understand me, no matter how much you think you do. "So, you got the wrong first impression on Kyle. You sound like you look up to Cartman. And if that's the case, you hate Kyle because Cartman did too. It also sounds like there's a little jealousy playing a part here too. I mean, if he was giving you this regular dose of attention, as negative it sounds, and it was taken away from you, it can cause problems, hurt your feelings, and make you feel some what left out."

Why did that make so much sense? I hated her right now. How did she get all of that from me hating Kyle? I didn't speak. I was even sort of fed up with her all together.

"Do you feel left out?" She asked.

"No!" Yes, a little, "He said no one would replace me!" But did they? Did anyone take my place? Why does it feel like I've been gone? I didn't leave. I was here.

She nodded as if she heard everything I was thinking instead of what I actually said, "You seem very angry. Are there complications at home?"

I looked down, "Home?" I huddled myself closer, if possible. It was so Goddamn cold in here, "I'm usually at Cartman's." I didn't want to talk about my real home.

"Fair enough," She said, writing something down. She watched me for a good minute before speaking, "You know, we covered more than we needed to for a day. We don't have to talk anymore." She could probably tell I wasn't having fun. That and I was halfway asleep, "You look tired. You may sleep on the couch if you want."

I began to wonder. I gave her a lot of information. More than I intended. Hell, I wasn't going to say one word at all. Maybe a 'Hey,' but that's it. Instead, I told her so much, "You won't tell anyone about what I said, right?" Paranoid again.

"Right, what you say will be kept between you and me. Promise." She smiled and went back to her work.

I got up and sat on the big black chair. I guess I was suppose to be laying on it while I was talking. I've seen that on T.V. before. So, I laid down and shut my eyes. I stared at nothing but the back of my eyelids.

I didn't have a dream, but that was a good thing for me. Maybe I could sleep again.

"Kenny?" The woman's voice sunk in my ears, as my eyes slowly began to open. How long has it been? It felt like two seconds. "Time to go home." She smiled brightly.

I stared at her and held my head. I was kind of dizzy, "But I have two more classes."

"I excused you from your classes so you could sleep. It's the end of the day now. Two thirty to be exact. Do you need a ride, or do you take the bus?"

"I have a ride," I shrugged her off a bit. I stood to take my leave.

"Oh, wait! Please, come back to this office tomorrow morning so you can pick up your new schedule." She managed to say before I shut the door.

By the time I got to the parking lot, Cartman was already in the car. He didn't look too happy either.

I remember. At lunch. I kind of took off. It felt like yesterday because of my nap. I opened the car door and sat down.

"You're late. I didn't think you were coming." He said more or less to his window.

"Yeah? Why'd you wait then?" I said to mine. Liar. He would have been long gone if he thought that. Cartman waits for no one.

As I thought, he didn't answer. He just pulled his car out and began to drive.

It was silent. Silent most of the way, until I switched the radio on. I didn't care what it was. The ringing silence in my ears were annoying. You know that ringing sound you hear when there's no sound. No, never mind. You probably wouldn't understand.

He turned the volume down, "Where am I taking you today?"

"Well, you have something 'important' to tell me. So, your house, I guess." An excuse to not go home. A pretty damn good one too. I kind of wondered what he would tell me when we got home. I know probably something about what Kyle said. Or if he's hurting me (Which he isn't). Would I walk away in the middle like I always do? I was kind of afraid. Maybe he'd yell at me, or beat me for walking away. But that doesn't sound like Cartman. Then again… lately… Cartman hasn't been Cartman.


	7. DeadLove

(Edit Thanks to 'Miss Moth')

His house. I sat on the couch, and he obviously sat next to my worthless shell of a body. This was the first time the T.V. wasn't on. The screen was black. Empty, like I felt right now. I couldn't help but feel bad about something.

He took a few glances my way, but didn't look directly at my face. Something around my chin or my shoulder. He swallowed hard and began, "Kenny, I've been talkin' to Kyle lately," Damn straight you have! "We've both noticed a change. With… you." He looked me up and down now, then looked away, "I'm… We're worried, a little. Kindda. Sorta." He always had to cover up words with more words just so he wouldn't look like a pussy. He didn't look like that at all, even if he had left the 'Kindda' and 'Sorta' out.

Why was I staring straight at him? Why was it so easy for me to, and him not to? I didn't say anything. I just gave him that look, like, 'Go on.' For being social, he wasn't acting it in front of me, now.

He took a few seconds to run his fingers through his hair and have it lay on the back of his neck, "I just really need to know if everything's alright… I guess. You're just… not the same happy Kenny, you know." He scratched at his neck and placed his hand on his lap.

I placed my hand on his that was on his lap. I looked at him, "Just say what you need to tell me, dude." I promised I wouldn't get mad at him this time. I was forcing myself to sit here, listening to every fault I have from Cartman's own mouth, no matter how much it hurt. Because… obviously it was hurting him too, "I won't say nothin'."

He kind of gave me a relieved smile. Did I make it a little easier? "I don't know if you noticed, but you always followed me." I noticed. "Now, you go off on your own. I don't know where you are. It makes me… I don't know?" He looked at me, his full attention on my face, "I would always know you were safe. I'd pick you up, drop you off. I can't let you out of my sight. Because once you're gone… that's all I think about." His cheeks turned beat red, he tried to hide it.

I laughed. Why was this suddenly not about me? I thought we were talking about how insane I was. It didn't sound like it to me. I couldn't help but smile and feel embarrassed myself.

"Yeah, and people keep tellin' me how much you changed physically," He stopped and gave me a small smirk, "I can't tell, because I see you every day. You know what I mean?" I understood exactly. When people slowly change day by day, you can't tell if you're with them everyday. Maybe he didn't think I was 'sick' after all.

My gaze kind of fell. No, he had to think something was wrong with me, didn't he?

"I guess, I'm kind of blind. I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't know." He just sat back with that guilty look on his face.

I was pissed, again. Kyle. This was fucking Kyle's fault, not yours! "Dude, listen to me! Kyle is a fuck-tard who doesn't know what's goin' on. Well, not between us anyway," Why did that sound kind of gay? I ignored it for now, "He wants to be the Goddamn super hero of the fucking world! He thinks if he does 'amazing' things for other people they'll over look the little fact that he's nothing but a Goddamn Jew!" I took in a few breaths to calm my nerves, "But Cartman… You're not hurting me. I don't know how many times you actually saved me." I looked down. I must have grabbed both his hands without intention. My grip loosened.

He pulled my hands back and laced his fingers with mine, "I see a boy who's going through a rough time. My eyes can't see what everyone else is seeing. I can't see you having some mental illness. I just want to make you better so things won't get worse." He brought one hand closer to his face so he could lightly brush his lips against it. "But no matter what I do or how much I try… It feels like I can never make you happy."

I looked down at our hands, then up at his face. His eyes were so innocent. First time I've seen them so warm and pure. It almost looked like they were glowing. I looked at our hands again, I also saw some sadness in those eyes. My heart beat fast and my chest began to ache. I was so glad he understood and didn't see me as a freak, but at the same time choking on my chest because it felt like I was letting him down.

"Kenny," He released my hand and reached to my face. More of my nose, but was afraid to touch it, "You're bleeding." He finally just went forward and wiped his knuckle on my nose, leaving a streak of red.

I held my nose quickly and bent forward. Why was my nose bleeding? I don't remember hitting it. It could just be stress, I guess.

"Keep your head up, I'll get a towel or something." He got up and walked away. He'd be back. I knew that.

I kept my nose high up in the air, but I felt the blood still. My head suddenly began to pound. Maybe that cold was catching up to me.

He came back with a box of Kleenex. One finger went to my chin so my head was facing him (in a way, my nose was still in the air) and he pinched my nostrils together with the tissue, "What am I goin' to do with you?"

I whined. My head was killing me. I placed my hand on my forehead and rubbed at it. I was tired and run down. All in two seconds. Had to be some kind of record.

I think he saw how I was acting, "Hey, we'll chill out for a little while. Hold this." Meaning, hold the tissue that was trying to stop the bleeding from my nose, "I should have some movies down here." He got up once again and, before checking for anything else, he closed the shades, somewhat keeping the light out. It was dark enough for me. He put a dvd in and laid down, his legs around me, "Lay down, it'll be easier to keep your head up."

I motioned sideways, so my legs were parallel to his. Me inside, of course. I slowly rested my back onto him. He was comfortable. My own personal pillow. I snuggled the back of my head into his chest. I wish it were my face, but whatever. My eyes were closed. I didn't care what was on really.

His hand replaced mine, which was holding the Kleenex. He was quiet. I could only hear the smooth rhythms of his breaths. I felt his heart. Calming the aching in my head with each thud. Relaxing. His other hand lifted as he tried to massage head through my hood.

I untied the loose knot of my hood and lifted my body up a little. I lifted it up and off my head, leaving it to fall on my back. I went back to the position I was in before. I didn't really have thoughts right now. I only wanted his touch.

I felt his heart rate increase for some reason, but it was beyond me. He rubbed at my sore head, relieving each pain with one touch. I shivered. His face came closer and those sweet breaths traced my scalp. I shivered once again. I loved him so much right now. I smiled and whispered to him, "This makes me happy…"

He hugged at my form and I swore I felt the slightest touch of his lips to the top of my head. I could be mistaken. "You, McCormick…" His forehead rubbed through my blonde hair, "make me happy."

It actually felt like my heart stopped for a second. Did he actually say that? It felt like a dream. But it couldn't be. I was still awake, I thought. Until everything turned dark on me.

I was pulled into my own world again. I could tell I was dreaming. It happens every so often. This was the only real time I could see myself. Me, in a pitch black room. Nothing around. I could see myself walking back and forth, wondering where the Hell I was. Maybe I was dead. I wouldn't be able to prove my point, since you can't feel anything if you pinch yourself in a dream.

A bright light.

I saw myself walking towards it. Maybe it was a way out of here. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. It was as if my vocal cords were no longer in my throat. I just kept walking towards it. The light getting closer and bigger with each step. I stopped. I wasn't walking at all. It was getting bigger. Everything was silent. I was starting to think, maybe it wasn't my vocal cords but maybe my ears that were screwed up.

The light was unbearably bright now.

I squinted my eyes to get a better view. There was something behind the lights. No, they were no ordinary lights.

Headlights!

A fucking car was coming my way!

I turned and began running for my life, but I wasn't me. I was watching me. I wanted to wake up. I tried everything. Screaming, kicking, anything. But I wasn't real. The me that was running for his life wasn't real. I just watched as the car sped closer to me. I wasn't running fast enough! The car was going faster! Fuck! I wanted to go down and save myself, but I could only watch.

It wasn't a car. It was a pickup truck. That same one that hit me before. I never had a dream with that thing ever before.

I watched. I fell on the black ground. I stopped. The truck didn't. It hit me! It fucking hit me! I was all over the fucking ground. Meaning, I wasn't whole. I was only limbs that were bleeding in every Goddamn direction. The ground was painted red. The red wheel marks kept going for miles. I was dead. I could only watch.

My eyes finally opened as I sucked in a huge amount of air, releasing it in an attack of coughs. My body jolted off the couch and my face landed on the ground, followed by the rest of my body. I screamed. Not one of those sissy screams. I was screaming bloody murder. I didn't give my lungs a break for a second. My throat was already sore, so some came out scratchy. Some just ended with coughs that felt like they were ripping the skin inside my neck. I couldn't hear anything over myself and could only think of my dream. None of my dreams were like that. I always woke up before anything bad happened. I was twice as scared because I heard if you die in your dream, you die for real. Was I alive now? I didn't want to find out.

"Calm down."

What the fuck was that? Was someone talking to me. Maybe I was still dreaming. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see. The images kept coming in the back of my eye lids. I shouted louder. My breaths were quick, the air burning at small microscopic wounds in my throat, "Get away!" I shouted. What if the guy got out of his truck and he was coming to finish me off. I didn't want to die. Not here. Not yet! I wasn't ready.

I felt myself being lifted off the ground.

No! No! This was it! This was fucking it! I was dead! I kicked and screamed harder, "No! Don't! Go away! Leave me the fuck alone!" Everything shook. I was scared. I was so afraid. I just noticed the wet on my cheeks. I was crying that's how scared I was.

I felt myself kneeling down and the person having their hands on my shoulders, "Calm down!"

"No!" I tried to get out of their grasp. I wouldn't opened my eyes for a second. I fought, trying to get my shoulders loose. It didn't work. I punched at the body in front of me, no matter how weak my attacks were, "Let me go!!"

I was pulled in further, but it didn't hurt. Two large arms hugged at me, keeping me warm. Their body was soft and welcoming. Their shoulder, a rest for my head. I didn't feel pain. I felt comfort.

I opened one eyes, but my vision was blocked by tears. My cries died down. I wiped my tears on whatever was in front of me. I found it was Cartman's red shirt. Cartman… I buried my face into that shoulder and gripped the fabric of his shirt, "Cartman." I said, shaky. My hands rubbed back as far as I could reach, and grabbed the shirt there, "Cartman." My voice was more audible this time. I felt safe now. Nothing could hurt me, not with him there, "Cartman." Each time I said his name, it made me feel that much better. It reminded me, this wasn't a dream and he was here with me.

"Yeah, I'm here," He replied to my repetitiveness. He held me closer, his arms trying to cover as much of my back as possible. He panted and his heart was beating so fast. I must have scared him.

That made me think about what Stan said to me, 'For a big guy with a high ego… he's scared of the most trivial things…'

Why did I think of that? Did it mean something? I guess, I mean, I was the one freaking out. I was the one who had the dream. I was the one screaming. Why was he scared?

He kind of let me go after a few minutes of relaxing. He sat on the floor, his legs forward and spread a little.

I sat in between those legs with my knees practically glued to my chest.

"A nightmare?" He asked, as if he knew. I guess, he would know. A finger came up and brush my bangs away from my red puffy eyes.

"Yes," I said back. I couldn't look at him. I must have looked so pathetic to him. I could tell he was looking at me. I knew he was going to ask, 'about?' like he always did, so I saved him the trouble. "A pickup truck… hit me." I watched him to see his reaction.

His eyes went wide, as if he were remembering the whole incident from before. He looked at me, down at the ground, to his side, at the TV, me again, to the couch, then me again. I think he felt uneasy remembering that. I didn't mean to. "Was I there?" He asked, worried. It was a dream, not like it mattered, right?

Before I could say a word there was knocking on the door. I blinked and looked at the door, then at him who did the same thing as me. I flinched as he doorbell rang. I bet any money it was that Jew.

Cartman just sighed and stood up, walking over to the door. He opened it a little bit. He looked pissed as he did so, "Stan?"

My stomach dropped. I whispered over to Cartman, "I'm not here." With that said, I ran into the kitchen so I couldn't be seen. What the Hell was Stan doing here? I peeked my head from the door way that separated the living room and kitchen.

"Hey, fat ass…" Stan forced the door open a little bit more, "Mind if I come in…?" He had that weird smile on his face like he knew something was up.

I could tell Cartman was trying to shut the door on him, but Stan got in before he could do anything.

Stan sat himself down on the couch and cross his legs, making himself comfortable. Was he wearing a black thong?! You could totally see the strap higher than the pant line. And man, were those black pants LOW and tight.

"What do you want?" Cartman said, folding his arms over his chest. He was waiting for an explanation, and so was I.

"Well, it's a funny story…" He said, not exactly amused anymore. His eyes looked so dark with that black make up. Murderer visions again!

"Humor me," Cartman said in a bitter tone.

Stan stood up. He wasn't as tall as Cartman, so he wasn't much of an intimidation (but he's taller than me). "I've been looking for Kenny… He's not at school… At his house… or even work… You wouldn't know where he is… would you…?" He gave off that smile again. He knew I was here! Oh shit!

"Sorry, he's not here," Cartman said. I laughed a little because his 'here' sounded more like a 'ne-ya'. But other than that, he sounded casual, like I really wasn't here.

"Yeah…?" Stan walked closer to Cartman. "I know you better than that, fat ass… even if I'm not your friend now… You'd be shoving your fat face with fucking cheesy poofs and watching TV by now!" He pointed to the couch, "No cheesy poofs…" He pointed at the TV, "No TV…" He grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled his face down to his, giving him a not too happy stare, "You're a fat liar…!"

Cartman was running out of words to say to him. I could tell. He didn't speak, he just gave his own mean look back at him.

I rested my head on the wall. Stan already knew. What's the point in still hiding? I didn't want a fight between them anyway. I walked to the doorway so I was standing with no hiding place. I didn't look at either of them. Not yet. I was actually kind of pissed at Stan for saying Cartman was a 'fat ass.'

I noticed Cartman's eyes on me first. Even with Stan's hands on him, he stood up straight like I was some special person who walked into the room. He looked surprised that I came out on my own.

Stan saw Cartman's reaction and looked my way too. His hands loosened and fell to his sides. He smiled and walked my way, "Ken… There you are… This fat fuck told me you weren't here…" He blamed it on Cartman. I didn't like it.

"Shut up, Raven. I told him to say that." I walked passed him and went to my best friend who was still staring at me, with the same look. I was kind of flattered. I even though he would bow on one knee and kiss my knuckles. But that was imagination. It's kind of out there sometimes.

Stan gave me a sour look, "Ken… you're mine… I told you that, but you don't listen …do you…?" It seemed like he was getting more irritated with me because I didn't respond to that, "You're like a fucking dog that isn't trained…! You're a fucking animal with no home…!" He came my way and grabbed me by the wrist, "I can teach you right from wrong…"

I took a step back, but was pulled forward again. I just watched his icy eyes. Mine probably have fear written all over them. I shut them so he couldn't see, "Cartman can help me." I said this without thought. Without any knowledge of what would happen next.

"What!?" He pulled me forward, but not into himself, but the floor. He was already next to Cartman when I looked back up, "This?! This fat asshole!?" He looked at him closer, "This thing!?"

Cartman just stared at him with confusion. He didn't know what was going on. He wasn't suppose to. I didn't tell him. He stared Stan down, "Get out. I don't know what you want with Kenny, but get the fuck out of my house." He didn't say it loud, just more hatred added to his usual.

"Not without what's mine," Stan said back with the same tone. He looked my way again.

"Kenny's not a Goth fag like you," Cartman spat back.

"He's still a fag!" It seemed like after he said that, everyone was quiet.

Everyone.

I wasn't gay. I wasn't like him. Nothing like him at all.

My best friend stood there. He kind of gave me this mellow angry look. It was too hard to describe. It's not like he believed Stan, right? "Is this true, McCormick?" Why was he asking? Didn't he trust me? Couldn't he tell? After a few seconds of watching me, he asked a new question, "Are you Stan's butt fucker?" Anger in his face grew.

I could hardly move. I've never seen him give me that face before. He hated me and I didn't even say anything. I didn't even choose my words. My mouth didn't even open yet and he hated me. He didn't trust me.

Stan was there to make it worse, "Tell him, Ken… Tell him about our kisses… How you loved and savored each one…" He smiled. He knew he won. But he was the liar now. Those kisses meant nothing.

I looked at Cartman still, "It's not…" I started. Why couldn't I think of anything to say? Maybe because no matter what I said, it didn't matter. He would hate me because I was a good for nothing fag. I admit it… I'm gay. But not with Stan. I didn't want him.

"Fine," Cartman had this weird look. I couldn't read it at all. Maybe because it was empty, "Good luck fucking each other's asses." His sentence sounded grim. He walked out. He walked right out of his own house.

"Cartman…" I whispered, but he was gone anyways. I felt tears. This burning sensation ate at my chest. Why do people notice shit when its already gone? But what was I going to say? Nothing. Anything else would just make it worse. He would have beat me down personally if I yelled out, 'I was thinking of you when I kissed Stan!' Oh God, that would have been horrible. I felt hopeless. Maybe, he was my hope. Life. Happiness. All gone. All gone in a blink of a Goddamn eye.

"Cross…" He used that stupid Gothic nickname. I wasn't his. Fuck him! He cost me everything! The motherfucker. And all he could do is smile down at his prize. He won nothing. He shouldn't smile.

"I hope…" I started, controlling myself, "you DIE!" I shoved my hood over my head and took my leave out the door, until…

"I die… I'm taking you with me…" He winked and started out the back way. He found this funny? Fuck him! He didn't know what he just fucking done! He cost me everything! Every fucking thing!

I left. The only thing I could do… was go home. 


	8. WakeUp

That walk home was horrible. Unbearable. I was fucking alone. And I couldn't stop crying. I was a weak pussy who had icicles hanging off his cheeks. With every sobbing hiccup, it hurt inside. I hurt. I ached so much. I couldn't stand this pain.

I blame Stan. He took everything away from me. He calls me 'his.' And I'm left on this street like the poor idiot I am. He didn't care. He was just selfish. He wanted something to call his own, and I was it.

I stopped. Every movement I made seemed to sting at me even more. My heart was pounding. I was alive. But the hard rhythm of beats sounded like suffering. My heart was literally screaming inside my chest. It was drowning in my blood. It was hurting as much as I was.

My heart hurt?

I remember Stan saying that. Breaking up with Wendy. Was this his revenge? Did he want someone else to feel that same way? …Wait. Was this a Goddamn test? Did he leave me alone, and expect me to come to him? Just so he could give me that 'we are alike' speech. He was an idiot if he thought I'd fall for that.

His voice flashed through my mind, "You're like a fucking dog that isn't trained…! You're a fucking animal with no home…! I can teach you right from wrong…" I still remember those eerie Goth eyes of his.

I was only a dog to him. He was just playing with me. He thinks I have the same instinct of a dog. He'll leave me alone, then I'll eventually run back to him.

He forgot one thing, he wasn't my home. I took the silver cross earring out from my pocket. I guess, I failed to mention I pulled it out after school, before seeing Cartman. I threw the cheap metal on the ground and stomped on it as I walked by.

I would go home, but not just yet. Was there someone I could go to before that? Was there someone I could talk to about this whole thing? I searched my mind. There was one. My only option, but I didn't like it. I seriously did not want to.

I knocked on Kyle's door. I had to.

Sure enough, the boy answered the door. He watched me with a little sympathy, then walked out of the doorway, onto his porch. Where I was, "Kenny? Are you ok? Your eyes look a little…" Gross. Red. Puffy. Bloodshot. Dilated. Empty. Dead.

"Just the… wind out here," I sniffed. There was no wind. I think he knew that too.

He nodded and decided to drop the subject for once in his life. "Have you seen Stan. I can't find him anywhere and his phone is off the hook," He watched me carefully knowing he shouldn't be asking me this question. He added something else to clear up why he was asking me personally, "Cartman isn't answering either." (I know why).

"Yeah, I have," I answered, quickly and quietly. I wonder if he could have heard me.

He pitied me right now. I didn't want it. "That's great. At least I know he's alive," He tried to make a joke out of it, but ended with a few fake laughs, that turned more sad than anything. "Why does he hate me…?"

I looked up. I've never heard his voice so… not girl-like before. "I don't know? I mean, anyone would think you'd know. No offense, but you two were attach at the hip." I remember Cartman describing those two like that. That's the only reason why I stated it that way.

"It's true." His sad tone continued, "I liked Stan a lot. We're just so distant now." He leaned against the door and it shut while doing so. "I don't understand it, Kenny. Stan won't talk to me. And Cartman, he has his own problems." What did that mean?

I shrugged, "I'm not in a hurry," I sat down on the cold ground. I didn't mind, "Maybe I can help."

I think he appreciated that a lot. He sat down with me and smiled, "Thank you, Kenny." He began to explain right away, "How long has it been when Stan's parents got divorced? Five, Six months?" Eight, but I didn't stop him, "He stopped talking to me after that. Its like he took all of his anger out on me. I would think he'd be happy. He lives with his dad in the same house and his mom and sister left." He sat down with me. I saw him shiver a little, "He even told me he hated his mom, and its kind of obvious that he hates shelly too." Naturally. "Then, he hated Wendy. Broke up with her in front of a huge crowd. He literally slapped her so hard, there was blood." Slap? I heard he punched her, but Kyle was right there when it happened. "I tried to stop him from hurting anyone else. He just looked at me and said, 'I hope you die.' I cried, dude. I actually cried in front of everyone." 'I hope you die.' That's what I told Stan. No wonder he didn't take that seriously.

I kind of felt bad for him. This was the one time I actually felt sorry for him. I understood how he felt. "Maybe, some things just, you know, happen."

"No, he had to have a reason. That isn't like Stan!" His voice was louder than the expression on his face.

"Yeah, its like Raven," I said in more of a whisper. I don't think he heard me. I stood up and looked down at him, "Don't break your back over him. He's not worth it." I knew it was my time to leave. This wasn't my problem. I shouldn't get involved in it. And maybe my advice will get through the stupid Jew head of his.

"But he is…" He said softly, choking on tears. I only heard it barely, since I had already been walking away.

By the time I looked over to the porch again, he was inside. Just like he was never there. As if he never came outside. As if he never talked to me. Maybe this was my problem. All of our problems were starting to become linked with each other. All four of us were suffering. Maybe they weren't many different little problems, but one big one that effected us all. Maybe the only way we can survive this problem, is helping each other out. And Kyle had been the only person doing that. He probably saw that before me. He wasn't trying to solve the world's problems, just our one huge one. If life is a problem and we can't survive this problem, how do we survive life? We needed each other, but how? How when every single one of us were separated? All we've been doing is hating each other. It helps nothing.

By the time I got home, I hated myself. I hated myself for hating Stan. I hated myself for not helping Kyle. And I hated myself for being me and having Cartman walk away from me. I started thinking what it would be like if I wasn't there. Maybe everyone would be happier. Maybe they'd all be friends. Everything would be fine without me.

I snuck inside the door. I don't think my parents were home. I didn't see the car. I went towards the kitchen, looking around carefully. No one. Thank God. I went to the drawer with all of our silver wear. I looked around, paranoid again. No one. I took out a knife and held it cautiously between my fingers. I looked one last time. No one. I practically tip toed into the bathroom and locked the door. My heart was still beating. I looked down at the knife and my two blue eyes looked back at me. What would I plan on doing with this? Maybe face my fear of death. This is how I would help everyone.

Maybe if they were too busy worrying about my death, they'd all forgive each other. They'd be happy. Tears seeped through my eyes, "This… will be for the best…" I didn't have anything to really lose, right? I wouldn't leave Cartman, because he already left me. No one else ready cared.

I remembered him so much. So clear. So clear it hurts. I love him, and I'd do anything for him. If killing myself will make him happy… If they all can be happy again. It felt like the tears were stuck inside. Either that or I was making more tears than that could come out.

I unzipped my hoodie. Took it off. I watched my wrist. I felt my heart in it. I didn't do anything to it. It hurt anyways. I watched the knife and placed it on top. I didn't move it. I was scared. Why? I've been hurt worse! There was nothing left for me! Why was I scared!?

I sliced. "Ow!" I fell back a little and looked at my wound. It wasn't my wrist. It was a little higher on my forearm. I held my arm. I hurt bad. I watched the blood start to flow out it. I stopped. The sight of my own blood was… amazing. It started to numb and not hurt as bad. I smiled. I was crying happy tears now? I cut another slit a little bit higher.

Cartman's voice shot at my mind, "You, McCormick… make me happy."

"If I made you happy, why'd ya leave!?" I shouted and cut another one. I hated myself. "I hate you, Cartman!" That wasn't true. I loved him so Goddamn much, it killed me. Why not say it, it didn't matter anyways, "I love you!! I fuckin' love you!! I love you, Cartman!" I slid the knife at my other arm now. My sobs were loud, but laughter invaded some of them. I was crying and laughing at the same time. I hated myself for not making up my mind. I cut. "I hate that I love you!!" I cut. "You're all I fuckin' had you bastard!" I cut. "You took everything away from me!" And cut again. "I'm here, left with nothing!"

I dropped the bloody knife. I never hit my wrists. I felt like a failure. I could cut anywhere, but there. I hate myself! I fucking hate myself! And everyone else did to! I wanted to help everyone, and I failed… again.

I spent the last hour on the floor. Laying there. Staring at my wounds. Thinking. Thinking about everything that had happened. "I am sick." I said out loud for the first time, "I am insane." Why do I regret this? I went out of control and didn't accomplish what I wanted to do. I just wanted more pain so my thoughts would go away. They're here with me now, though.

I threw the knife in the garbage. No evidence, right? I cleaned the floor, not great, but good enough not to tell what was on the floor. I left the bathroom. Everything looked blurry. I put my coat back on to hide what I had done.

I walked back into the kitchen. I leaned against the counter. My pain was still here. My heart was still crying. "I hate you," Who was I referring to? Did it matter? I hated everything at this point. Now, who do I go to? I looked around, eyes heavy.

I sat on the ground in front of a cabinet. My dad's alcohol. I reached for a bottle and opened it. It didn't smell to good. I cried more, and forced it down my throat. Maybe this could kill me. I heard people died of alcohol overdose. I drank more, despite the bitter taste. It hardly mattered anymore. I didn't notice the first one was gone until it was. I felt a little better. I reached for another one. It was as if this one had no taste. Each sip made me forget. It was a miracle. It was like I had no problems. Zero. I grabbed a bunch and headed out of my house. I wanted to finish this by Stark's pond. So, I could remember all the fun times I had.

It felt like nothing walking there. I sat in the snow and placed the bottles next to me. I drank and watch the pond as if I could see flashbacks. We use to go here all the time, but that was before. I smiled. So many times. So many memories. It was so happy. I felt so happy right now.

I reached for another bottle. There were none left. Had I really drank them all? I didn't remember doing it. I tried to get up and look around for them, but I ended falling on my ass. I laughed. It was funny. I guess it was gone. But it didn't matter. As long as I felt this good for now on.

But I didn't. My happiness started to fade. I stood, wobbly and began to walk. It was more like floating, than walking. I cried for no reason now. I just wanted to leave. I didn't want to be here anymore. Where could I go?

I ended up falling. I hit my head on something hollow, then hit my face to something cement. I cried harder. It didn't hurt. I didn't feel anything, I just cried because I could.

I felt light on me. I cried more. My sobs were loud. Louder than anything. I looked up. I saw black shoes. I was at someone's house. My head must have hit the door.

They dragged me inside. It was bright. Did the sun already set? Where'd the time go? I only cried into the carpet. That's the only thing I saw at the moment.

I heard words being spoken to me, "You ok?" I couldn't tell who it was.

"No!" I shouted. "Everyone hates me! I hate me! I hate myself! I want to die!" I didn't mean to say that. It came out without me telling it to.

"Don't say that. Well, I like you a whole lot." Who was I talking to? None of my friends would say that.

I looked up. I wanted to know, "Who the Hell are you!?" I was pissed now. Don't know why. I just was.

"What? You don't recognize me?" He kneeled down so I could see him a little better. I still couldn't make out who he was, "Well, I'm Butters." I saw it now. I landed at fucking Butter's house!? I hated the kid!

"Alright. I'm going now. See ya." I crawled towards the door. Jesus, why was I so dizzy?

"No way, mister. You're going straight to bed," He shut the door, "Please?" He wasn't good with demands. I wanted out!

"Fuck you. Out of my way!" I fell on my stomach and started scratching at the door, "Let me out!!"

"Please don't be mad, Kenny. But I think your drunk. I don't think you should be walking around like that." He picked up the phone, "Here, I'll call your parents so they can pick you up." He smiled.

"Are you insane?!" I shouted. I laid there. No, I was. "Just uh…" Who could I have him call? "Call Carman." I blurted out. Cartman!? I was insane! He'd kill me!

"Well, alright. If your sure. I really think your mom and dad…" He started, but ended up dialing the number.

I recited Cartman's number in my head again. The only one I knew.

I heard Butter's voice, "Why, Hello, Eric." He said all polite and shit, "What are you doing right now?" He waited for the answer, "Great, can you do me a favor?" He said overly happy, "Please?" He asked as if Cartman said 'no.' "Thank you, Eric. Kenny's over at my place, and he doesn't look too good. He doesn't want to go home and wants you to come get him." He waited. What was Cartman saying? "Well, I don't know?" Butters looked at me for a second then continued, "He's just laying on the ground."

I heard Cartman's voice this time, being shouted from the phone, "Get him off the ground, you black asshole!"

Butters hung the phone up and fiddled his fingers together, "Gosh. Didn't mean to upset him." He said that to himself, which was really retarded. He dragged me over to the couch. He pulled at my arms, trying to get me on the couch.

I saved him the trouble and pulled myself up, kind of belly flopping into the cushions.

"You need anything?" He asked.

I didn't answer. I was going to say, 'Yeah. Quiet. Can you shut up?' But I was too rundown for that.

I was thinking in my mind what Cartman would do to me. Beat the shit out of me, right? Its not like his house was far from here. I'd find out when he opens the door.

I watched Butters. He's so stupid. Gay. Retarded. He didn't understand life at all. He's always so happy all the time, even when his life is bad. Horrible and stupid. Just like him. Why isn't he depressed. Maybe its just denial.

He kind of looked at me funny because I was staring right at him.

"Shut up!" I shouted.

He blinked, "But I didn't say anything." He looked like he was scared, until the door slammed open. Then, he looked terrified and fell backwards on his ass. He looked at the door, "Wow, Eric! That was fast."

He ignored Butters and stared at me, pissed. "I can't even fuckin' trust you at your own home, can I McCormick!?" He stomped over to me and grabbed me by the hood.

I was half dangling off the couch. My legs were on the cushion, but I was chilling in the air. I kind of felt like a Christmas tree ordainment. Gay.

"Aw, shucks. Don't be so hard on him, Eric. He didn't mean to." Butters was defending me? He was an idiot. An idiot who didn't need to get in the middle of this.

"Shut up, Butters." Cartman said, irritated. He dragged me out of the house by my hood. He shoved me in the back seat and started the car, "Why the Hell are you wasting my time?! You should call your boyfriend, Stan." He backed his car out of the driveway, watching as Butters waved at us.

"He's not my boyfriend! I hate him!" I started crying again. Damn it! Why do I keep doing this?

"Why the Hell didn't you say that, fuck-tard!?" He sped down the street, watching me in his mirror, "Why didn't you say you didn't kiss him!? I would've believed you!"

"Because I DID kiss him!" Why didn't I lie. It would have been better, "I hate him! I kissed him because I was horny!" Why was I saying this!? He doesn't want to hear this! I was sexually frustrated… wait, that WAS horny. That's what it meant. Shit! I was telling the truth, "It didn't mean anything! I don't want to be his anymore! I don't want to be his fucking property! I want to die!" Why did I keep saying that out loud? I cried harder. If I was drunk, why wasn't I happy?

His eyes were on the road. He didn't look at me. It was a long ride home. But we made it. He got out of the car and opened my end. He was going to take me inside.

I didn't want to. I just wanted to sleep in the car and go to school. I hated school ,but I didn't want to be here. I kicked him away, "I'm staying here!"

He pulled back, avoiding my kick. He came inside and grabbed me, trying to carry me, "My ass you are! Get inside!"

"No!" I screamed. I kicked him more and squirmed out of his grip, "Leave me alone, dude!"

I couldn't escape when he grabbed me and pinned me to the seat, "You're coming inside, Kenneh!" He shouted, afterwards panting a little bit.

I just laid there crying. Why did it have to be like this? I hated my life. "I want to die…" I said. I didn't care. That's how I felt. I didn't want to fight with him anymore. "I w-wanna die…" I choked. I closed my eyes tight. I didn't want to look at that pissed off face of his. I wanted to see a smile. "I WANT TO DIE!"

"No, you don't…" I heard him say. He was scared. He was scared again. "Don't say that… Don't tell me that. I don't want to hear you say that again!"

Something hit my face. Lightly. Gently. It was wet. I looked up. Cartman was crying, now. He actually had real tears in his eyes. I tore him apart when I said that. I literally killed something inside him with those words. I was a fucking murderer. But what could I do?

"I can't help it!" I screamed back, "That's how I feel! I can't stand being here!" He was squeezing onto my arms so hard. It hurt. It hurt my wounds, "Ah!" I cried out in pain and agony.

He quickly lifted his hands off me. He saw that he hurt me. He took my arm and pulled my sleeve down slightly. He was afraid to see what was there. It was like he knew what it was. He saw one scratch. Another, then another. "Fuck, Kenny!" He unzipped my jacket and ripped it off. He watched my wounds. Eyes wide filled with unspeakable fear, "Fuck, Kenny!!" He held my arms carefully and brought them to his face, crying on them, "What is wrong with you!? Why the…!?"

"I wanted you to be happy. I wanted everyone to be happy." I forced a smile with my tears, "If I was gone, everyone would be happy." I laughed, "Wouldn't you be happy?"

"Do I look happy, McCormick!?" He used my hands to cover his eyes, "How could you do this to yourself!?" He sniffed, "Kyle was right! Kyle was fucking right! Why didn't I listen to him! I should have got you help before this happened!" He shoved my arms in my face, "Kenny! This won't go away!"

"Yeah!? You said that before! And you went away! You left me with Stan! You walked out on me! I needed you, dude! And you left!" I just stared at him. I couldn't do much else.

"You idiot! You fuckin' poe' idiot!" His finger lightly touched the wounds of my skin. He rested his forehead there, "I should have watched you. I should have kept you with me!" Why were his words aimed toward himself?

"You didn't do anything! It was all me!" It was starting to get cold without my coat. I didn't feel comfortable either. There was nothing more to hide on me.

"Are you blaming me, or defending me!?" His fist hit the seat, but not me, causing the car to shake a little, "I don't understand you!"

"Good! You're not suppose to!" I snuck my legs out from under him and kicked at his chest to push him back a little. It wasn't long, but long enough to open the door and pull myself out the other side of the car. I started to run.

He saw. He got out of the car and came after me.

I didn't go far. I tripped over my own feet and fell into the snow. I coughed, heaving on a nasty taste in my mouth. The snow did feel cool against my wounds though.

I heard his crunching steps in the snow. Between pants, he spoke, "You left that time."

I just was there. Laying there. What was there to say now. He was right, "Now what?" I rolled over on my back and looked his way.

He sighed and looked up at the sky. There weren't any clouds. Just stars. Shining above, "I don't know?" He took his red coat off and threw it my way. He laid down next to me, just watching the stars. "I really don't know?"

I huddled my body into the warm coat, then moved closer to him. Stupid, huh? I ran away from him because he was close to me, and now I want to be close to him. I guess, nothing really made sense anymore. I placed my hand on his chest.

His concentration on the stars was broken and he watched me. He put his hand over mine and gave me a smile, "What?" His smile. After all this, it looked like he forgot. It's like none of this happened.

"I like your face," Wow, that was a little random. It just showed I had alcohol in my system still.

He blushed, but his smile was still there, "Shut up, McCormick."

I gave him an innocent smile, "Am I still an angel?" Whatever. Keep asking stupid questions, I'll just pretend I didn't say any of it the next day.

He put his face closer to mine and whispered, "Yes." And gave me a little peck on the cheek. He knew I was drunk, otherwise he probably wouldn't have done that.

After that, all I could remember is me passing out. It felt like I was sleeping that whole day today, but I guess it makes up for that last few weeks where I didn't. And between you and me, I remember grabbing his ass some time that night. He has such a sweet ass. 


	9. FrostBite

(Edit Thanks to Miss Moth)

I liked the next day a little better than any others I've been having. Even though we missed only one day of eating at the café for breakfast, I was starting to miss it. I felt a lot better since I got some sleep, and I couldn't complain about waking up next to that smile of Cartman's. It was still morning though, so many things could go wrong by then. Too bad I was ignoring that fact for right now.

"You're not eating JUST a cookie! Get something else!" Cartman practically threw the menu at my face. He was irritated because I wouldn't order anything else. I guess he saw how skinny I had gotten. It was nothing for him to worry about, my ribs were only sticking out of my skin a little bit.

"Fine!" I held the menu with both hands and smiled at him, sarcastic at least, "I'll get a black coffee, too!" I was just messing with him. His face was priceless when he was pissed. I loved the little tint of red that formed on his cheeks.

This time he didn't get as mad. He folded his arms and looked away, "Have it your way, but your sharing with me then." He placed his menu on the table and kind of just stared out the window, which was more like he was staring into space.

The words: Cartman, share, and food never appear in the same sentence. Hell, Cartman and share hardly appear. But what was this? Could I have scared him that much, or is he doing it for other reasons? Was this another way of making me order something? It didn't look like it. He'd never let it go for this long. Come to think of it, him thinking came to me as odd too. What could possibly he be focusing on that his attention was somewhere else?

I took a risk and grabbed a closer look. He looked slightly pale. His palm rested on his lightly flushed cheek, which led to his facial features. I hadn't noticed before, but he had this certain beauty to him I couldn't quite put my finger on. That brown hair hung into his face a bit, leaving one gorgeous green eye unhidden. Was I checking him out?

That eye that was so focused on the window, now turned to me. He kind of just stared at me until a dark eyebrow curved down with a disgust look, "What are you doing?" He asked, kind of freaked out.

I watched those full lips mouth each word. I just realized he had the biggest most beautiful lips I ever seen. They were just there, I couldn't believe I haven't seen them before. They even looked soft and warm just like him.

I snapped out of it. Holy crap! I was practically drooling over the table when I watched his lips. I just looked down at my lap, which was tingling by now, and answered him finally, "Nothing." Why was he so damn sexy in my mind? I was having one of my urges again. My mind spaced out and all I could do is thinking about kissing him. Shit! Right now, too. "Take off your coat," I ordered. No thought at all went into that sentence.

"What?" He just looked at me like I was crazy. Well, I guess I was, so he didn't have a reason not to.

"Yeah, you look hot," Shit! I could have slapped myself in the face for that one. But thankfully, it had a double meaning.

He sat there for a couple seconds, "Yeah, it is a little warm in here." He stood up and began to unzip the jacket.

I just watched wide eyed. Why'd I say anything? I guess it didn't matter by now. I was going to have my little show.

The zipper went to the bottom and was released from the clasp. He opened it and took it off one arm, then the other. He was wearing blue today. His belly and his sides created curves I could see from the shirt. Those were fine ass curves too.

My mind was off again. It ended how it started. He was seated already, and I was just watching him with that glazed over look in my eyes.

He was getting severely impatient with me now, "Kenneh! What the Hell are you starin' at!?"

'You, of course, sweet ass.' I'd never say that out loud, no matter how much I wanted to. That would just be plain weird. But, God! My eyes couldn't keep to themselves. They wanted him so much and I couldn't help it. "Nothing," I said in a sweet tone, "Nothing at all." It didn't help that his lips kept mouthing words. And the steam and energy in those movements were kind of much for me.

The waitress finally came over, right when Cartman was about to open his mouth again. I drained out everything and just watched those lips as my eyes fucked the shit right out of them. It almost felt like my eyes were going in and out of my skull, humping the air in front of me, and in the vision of you know who. Why did I have a perverted mind right now?

The waitress was gone already. Meaning, Cartman was glaring at me again, "AYE! What's your problem, asshole!?"

I smirked a little, still taking in what was in front of me, "I like your face." I believe I said those exact words last night when I was drunk. Didn't matter, really. Cold, hard truth. Or should I say: long, hard.

"Weak, dude!" He looked around scared as fuck. A look like if someone heard what I had said, the world would end, "Don't say that shit in public! People will think we're…" He didn't finish, but I could tell he was getting flustered. And he didn't like it.

"…Gay?" As I said that, one eyebrow rose with interest. I was acting like a total perv right now. I was wondering if I was still drunk. Obviously I wasn't.

Cartman shot up from his seat, leaned over the table, and covered my mouth with his hand. He looked around at the people a couple times. They didn't really seem to notice. He whispered to me, "Jesus, Kenneh! Shut up!" This was… Cartman caring what other people thought about him? That was different, but it's every guys nightmare to suddenly become gay. Look how I took that shit.

I pulled his hand away from me a little and gave him a laugh, "Chill, dude. I'm just joking." Weather I really was or not was beyond me, but as long as I stopped freaking him out we were good.

He shook his head and sat back down, "You're so weird." It wasn't a cheerful look he was giving me, but once our drinks came his eyes were no longer on me.

Our usual order. Cartman got the chocolate milk. I got my coffee.

The mug in front of me was practically radiating heat around it. I always wondered why coffee was so hot when you first get it. You can't handle it or do much else with it at that state. Just stare at it and hope the fucker gets cold soon. I blew on it a few times, then rose my head back up to Cartman.

His eyes were already on me. Crap. He was getting me back wasn't he? He had that face where he was watching something he really liked on TV. You know? Like when certain shows are on and a guy is sitting in front of it, you can't make them move. (Not that I care. I've caught myself doing that sometimes at his house. Never at mine though.)

"Ha, Ha. Real funny, dude." I sat back a little, watching as those green eyes looked back at me. I scratched something itchy on my back and went back to my normal seating. I wasn't going to do anything else until he did. I wasn't falling for one of his lame jokes.

After a couple minutes, he just looked away. He took his milk and began to drink it out of the bendy straw. He used his straw to swirl the milk around, as if thinking about something. Obviously, because his chocolate milk was already mixed. I was going to come forward and say something, but he spoke first, "How much of last night do you remember?"

I looked down at my coffee as if it would give me a better answer. It didn't. Stupid thing. I looked back up at him and kind of shrugged, "Um…" My mind was kind of fuzzy compared to last night. I could have probably tell you what exactly happened, but now, it was later. "Well, I remembered Butters' house." It was a start, maybe he'd help me out.

"Anything after that?" He questioned, not really looking my way anymore, "In my car?"

My eyes shot opened and pointed at him, "We did 'IT' in your car!?" No way! I knew I was drunk, but not that drunk. I wouldn't exactly be heartbroken if it was true.

He grabbed me by the front of my hoodie and brought me closer to his face, "NO! We did not do 'IT,' you retard!" He let me go.

I fell back into my seat. We both kind of just looked around. Everyone was looking our way now.

He looked out the window again, keeping his face away from everyone. He whispered over to me, "No, the thing about Stan. You remember saying anything about Stan?"

There was only one thing I could have possibly said about Stan. Eh, just my luck. We couldn't talk about anything else? I remember running away too. This was much more important than, right. I sighed and looked at him, "Yeah, somewhat." This subject was a little uncomfortable for me. Especially with Cartman. I could feel him hating me already. "But Stan already said everything."

He gave me a bitter look. I could already tell he hated me, "No, you retard. I know you…" He looked around and his face turned a little red. He whispered the next words, "…kissed him." His voice was back to normal now, "But you told me something else."

As he said that, my cheeks started to burn, a lot more than his. I tried to ignore it and go on with this conversation. I'm surprised I didn't get up and walk off by now. "What do you mean? What'd I say?" Oh crap. I don't even remember what I said. I was scared shitless. What if I said something about liking him.

"Wasted piece of white trash," He spat out, crossing his arms now, "You said that it didn't mean anything." His eyes were on me, "What'd he do? I know you a little better than that. You don't go around feelin' up guys."

So, I didn't tell him, but he needed an explanation. Did he know me better than that, because I felt it could be disgustingly possible right now. "Nothin'. I gave him the letter Kyle wanted me to give him and…" God, was this hard to explain. "Talked, ya know?"

His usual, "About?" I knew it was coming, but since I had nothing to add I had to wait for it.

But what was I going to say? I talked about gay stuff. Literally. Most of the topic was toward Cartman. I wasn't going to say that. I needed a way out of this. I stood up and turned my back on him, walking towards the door. "I'll wait in the car. I can't deal with you right now." The little bell of the door rang and I was outside. My back went to the nearest wall and I stood there in the cold. What am I suppose to do? What the Hell am I suppose to say? It's only going down hill from here.

I shuddered from the frigid weather and watched the breath being forced out of my mouth. Floating up and away. What have I done? Cartman knows too much. Too much about this whole situation. Too much about me. I'd smile, but I can't.

"Kenny," I had a feeling he would follow me. Same. Always the same. So repetitive! Just like this life!

I turned my head away and didn't say a single word. What could I possibly say? There was nothing to say.

"Kenny! Did you hear me!?" That was a stupid question. I obviously did. He was standing right next to me, "Say something, you poe' piece of…"

I was sick of him calling me that. He always called me that. That's what I was. That's what everyone saw when they looked at me, wasn't it? I turned and faced him, only to put all my strength into ramming him into café's entrance door. I heard the little bell jingle and everything. Too bad no one was going in nor out, "Shut the fuck up!"

I watched his face. He was in shock. He was surprised I had actually done something back. It looked like I hurt him a little too. Not bad, but still.

I just noticed what I had done… and what Cartman had not done, to deserve that anyway. It was my fault I couldn't tell him the truth. All of this was my fault that our friendship was like walking on eggshells now. I released him slowly and backed away.

Our eyes were connected, but that's the only thing. We were separated by this wall I had created. He could only look at my true self. He could only look so far into my thoughts, until he'd hit a wall which hid everything else. This wasn't a friendship. This was me isolating myself from everything and everyone I loved. Not only that, but letting in everything and everyone I hated.

I'm willingly putting myself into this dark room and letting all my demons attack and kill me. All of those monsters fuse into one thing. Myself. My enemy was myself. Everything doesn't want to kill me, I do. I started as this lost puppy, but ended as some wild animal. This isn't me, but I can't go back. We can't go back in time. I had just bit the hand that was feeding me. I was done.

I turned and ran from him once again, but this time I couldn't go back. I can't go back. No one can go back. I wish I could have said I was sorry, but the words wouldn't have made a difference. I hurt the one thing, the one person who cared. Who was trying to help. My happiness. I destroyed something I wasn't suppose to. And it wasn't Kyle's fault. Or Cartman's. Or even Stan's. This time, I admit… this was my fault.

Of all the stupidest places to run to, I went to school, but none of my classrooms. I stayed in that same bathroom as before. The one I met up with Stan in. I started thinking, maybe he was right. I was this untrained dog, he could help me. I was 'his.' Meaning, I should go back to my owner on instinct. He even named me.

I waited on the floor of the bathroom stall. He couldn't possibly go a whole day without ditching a class. He was usually seen here too.

A couple hours passed and sure enough, I saw those big black Goth looking boots.

"Raven," I spoke out, quietly. My throat was tight for some reason and my lips felt like the skin had grown together. It hurt the first time I moved my lips.

Those boots stopped and turned towards the stall I was in. He pushed open the door slowly and looked down. He gave a pleased smile, "I knew you'd come back to me, "Cross…"

I knew, I looked pathetic. Huddled in the corner between the toilet seat and the wobbly, badly painted wall. I didn't move.

He got down on one knee and motioned me to come forward, "Come… Tell me what's bothering you…"

I crawled over to him and let his arms hold me. I placed my head into his chest, but no tears came. I couldn't cry anymore. "I did something bad…" I dry sniffed, on nothing really.

"Mmm…? Go on…" He rubbed at my back, trying to give comfort.

"Cartman… I couldn't tell him. I can't let him find out what I'm thinking. I hurt him," I put my arms around his waist. I wasn't use to this. Cartman was bigger. I wasn't use to having my arms go all the way around so clean and cut. Stan was far from warm. Than again, I couldn't be picky with the options I had.

"It's alright… I'll make sure Cartman doesn't get in the way again…" He kissed at the top of my head, but his lips weren't as soft. They were ones that wanted ownership, not caring.

I sat up and looked at him. I hadn't looked at his face before I went over to him. He looked the same. Those eyes were still murderers. I closed my eyes and ordered, "Kiss my cheek." The same spot Cartman had last night. If I remembered anything, it was that. This whole morning I had been denying I did.

Stan moved in, his fingers resting on my neck. The silver rings he was wearing felt cold against me. I knew his face got closer because I became hot. He blew a few lingering breathes before giving me a peck on my face.

My head instantly hung from its shoulders. I suddenly had the urge to cry, "It's not the same," I whispered. "Oh God, It's not the same… It'll never be the same."

"Sh…" He pulled me closer to him again and spoke soft words into my ear, "It might seem impossible to forget your love for Cartman… but you'll move on… I'll help fix those wounds he's created…" He stroked my hair and planted another kiss onto it.

"You knew?" I whispered. How did he know? I grabbed a hold of the black shirt that hugged at his slim body.

"Of course…" That statement was followed by laughter, "You talk about him nonstop… you're by his side always… and you look up to him so much…" His voice grew darker, "…But I fear you look up to him too much… His actions and words made you think he's perfect…"

I pulled back and looked at him with a cold stare, "But he is. I… need him!"

He closed in on my personal space, but not in a good way, "Ken… No… He's a fat lazy fuck…! What's so great about that…?"

"I like that about him," I caught his stare, just as he caught mine, "I love the good and bad things about him." I've never said these things before to anyone. So, it sounded so weird coming from me.

Stan gave me this sad look, "Really…?" His hands came to my shoulders, "I wish there were more people like you in this world... People who can see passed flaws…" He gave me a squeeze at the shoulders.

"Raven…" I felt bad now. Why did this have to come up? "I don't see pass the flaws. I axcept them." I hope that made some kind of sense.

He smiled, "That's why you're mine…" He came closer and pressed his lips against mine. They started slow, but quickly became desperate.

I just sat there, closing my eyes. Trying to pretend. Trying to picture something else. Someone else. My head fell down, breaking his kisses. I couldn't do this. Cartman's smile would invade every kiss.

He whispered into my ear, "Please… Just let me enjoy this… just for right now…" He nuzzled into my neck and began to places his kisses there now, "Just pretend with me for a little…" His breath was so hot, "It doesn't have to mean anything…" He nipped at the sensitive parts of my neck, "Just let me believe… for a little while…"

My fingers held tight onto the top of his hair that was still black. His ecstasy and passionate breaths were giving me my own high. My body burned and ached for something, and if that something wasn't there, I'd have to take the next best thing. That's how life is. The cold hard truth of 'realistic couples.' People take what they can get. I whispered back to him, "If you're going to have your way with me, just do it, you bastard."

A zip was heard. My coat, gone. Fuck everything. If I didn't have anything, why was I worried about it? Even if Cartman found out, who cared? I still did what I did. No going back, right? I was Stan's now. Kenny Marsh… It didn't have the same ring to it.

It wasn't long until I was being pushed against the stall's wall and being kissed harder by him. Our faces so close, we pushed them closer, if possible. It felt more like a fight. I'd forced my forehead forward as he forced mine back. Our tongues clashed and wrestled for dominance. Our teeth bit at each others lips at will. It felt like we were taking our hate and frustration out on each other.

I finally got control and forced him to the ground, my frail frame mysteriously keeping him down. I bit and bruised his lips, licking at the small drops of blood. My tongue crashed back inside his mouth and fought his. He couldn't keep up for some reason.

His throat vibrated out higher pitched whines that ended in lustful moans. He tried to rise his body up, but I wouldn't give him the light of day. His actions calmed a little, finally excepting his position. Laying on the ground. His finger tips slid gently down my boney spine.

I shivered, letting my body relax a little with his. I released his mouth, having a trim of saliva disconnect from out tongues. I panted hard, breathing in his breaths.

He smirked and even laughed a little. Between his gasps of air he spoke out, "Now… That's what I want… A man who takes control… Not a prissy little girl like Kyle…" He reached up and gave me small little kisses across my lips.

Kyle? Did he mean Wendy? I hardly cared at that moment though.

As Stan was occupied with what he was doing, my hands snuck under his shirt, slowly uncovering his pale skin. I let my hands explore where ever they pleased and returned some of his kisses. My fingers felt his flat stomach and small chest. I admit he had a cute ass, but I couldn't get to it while he was laying down.

Something hit me. Why was he acting less dominant? He was the one possessive over me. He doesn't like Kyle because he acts girly. He was the girl/guy and I'm the guy/guy! So, does that mean Kyle's gay too!? We're all just a circle of gay wads! …Besides Cartman. I was so confused.

I got off him and stood up, walking over to the mirror, "Dude, this is totally fucked up right here!" I took his line, but he was too Goth to even know it.

"Does it matter…?" He came over to me, not bothering to pull his shirt down. His skin touched my back, then rested his head on my shoulder. His hands went up and down the front portion of my body, "You're mine…"

Nothing was suppose to make sense, was it? My back rested on him and he held me. I turned my head back a little.

He saw what I was trying to do and pushed his head forward a little, brushing his cheek against mine before turning it and tasting my lips.

Everything stopped with a window shattering shout, "Oh My God!" Who the Hell had walked in on us, and why did that voice sound so familiar?

My eyes were too lazy to look up at this moment, and it wasn't like Stan had a loose hold on me. Did it matter. The word would have spread anyway, right? And since Stan was still tight around me, it didn't seem like it bothered him either. Maybe it was no one important. Today I was selfish. My selfishness. Right now, I was only concerned with my needs. 


	10. StrongWeakness

(Edit: Thank you, Miss Moth)

"You two are…?! And Kenny, you're arms…!? Oh My God!" The second time around I caught whose voice it was. Loud and squeaky like that, it had to be Kyle.

I finally got my eyes open, only to close them again and kiss those lips of Stan's. I wanted to gross Kyle out a little more. Plus, maybe he'd leave or something.

The little Jew backed away, but then stepped forward, trying to be 'brave' or something. "I need to talk to you, NOW, Kenny!" He grabbed a hold of my wrist, seeing it was the only thing that wasn't cut.

Stan kind of pulled me back and stared at Kyle, "Whatever you 'need' to say… You can say in front of both of us…" He put his face close to my ear and gave it a kiss, "Isn't that right, Cross…?"

I laughed a little from the gentle touch on my ear, "That's right, Raven…" I was Stan's follower now. Whatever he said, goes. No matter what.

"Fine!" The Jew said getting a little irritated by our behavior, "What happened with you and Cartman! He won't say a fuckin' thing to me! I have a feeling you know, Kenny." He pointed at me and gave me a look as if it were my fault. Even if it was, he didn't have to accuse me. Jesus.

"And that's my problem?" I said, clearly with a straight face.

"Yes! Dude, you're his best friend! Weather either of you want to admit it, you can't stay separated like this!" He folded his arms, as if he were trying to act tough. "However you feel, he probably feel ten times worse!"

"Ten times zero still equals zero. Oh, wow. I AM good at math!" I said in a sarcastic tone, giving Stan's neck a bit more love.

He gave me this worried/confused look, "What are you trying to say?"

"Feelings are for little hippie pussies like you. Go preach to someone else, Jew." I had a confident smile on my face. He'd have to walk out now.

Kyle stood there looking down at the tiled floor, "You and Cartman are so alike, it's scary, dude." He turned and walked away.

But my pride hit rock bottom after hearing that. I thought I'd feel so good watching him leave, but I was the joke here. I got untangled from Stan's arms and went back to the stall for my coat. "I need some air. See ya, later." I wove him off for now.

I think he understood because he didn't stop me. He knew when I needed to be left alone. That's pretty much the only thing I like about him right now.

I went through the door and to the back of the school. I took the long way around just so no one could see me.

How would it hurt Cartman ten times more. Kyle was just saying that. Cartman was tough. He doesn't take bull crap from anyone, especially the Jew. The liar. He wanted us to become friends again, but we couldn't now. There was no way.

I stopped. I heard some sobs coming from my secret spot. Who the Hell? Someone found out where it was? I wondered what time it was. I lost track in the bathroom, and even if I did want to go back to class, I couldn't. I wouldn't know where to go.

I snuck around the corner and tried to hold in a gasp. I slid back by the wall so I was hidden. It had to be lunch hour for me, otherwise Cartman wouldn't sitting be there.

Shit! Guilt was eating at me. I've never seen Eric Cartman breakout into full out tears like that, not since... Damn it! I just wanted to shoot myself in the face for this one. Kyle was right again? What the Hell? I couldn't go over there now. I wouldn't be able to say anything. I'd probably end up crying too. Shit! This was bull shit! It just seemed like every single one of us was turning into a big ass, crybaby pussy!

"I thought I'd find you out here… Cartman?" It was Kyle. He sounded surprise to see him too. Well, not at first anyway. "Dude, I doubt Kenny's coming out here. I talked to him, but…" Kyle kind of trailed off. I wanted him to go on. What did the Jew think about me, huh?

"It doesn't matter," His voice wasn't whiney or anything, it just lacked, everything in it. "I knew this would happen one day. He always ran, and sometimes I didn't think he'd come back when he did. Now, I know he's never coming back." I heard him opening something. Well, probably his lunch, it was 'lunch hour'. "He gave me that look… I didn't give him enough space, did I?"

"I think you gave him too much space, dude." I heard him shift positions. Maybe he was sitting down now.

"Too much, too lil' space! Whatevah! I don't giv'a shit! All you told me was to have him open up to me as soon as possible! Well Jew, I can't because every time I bring it up he runs his ass away! I blame you 'cause he's gone!" Cartman sounded pissed. I felt bad. It wasn't their fault, it was mine.

"M-- ME!? Why me, fat ass!? I'm just trying to help you!" Here we go again, the Jew and Fat ass would start fighting now.

"You're obviously not doin' a good job at it!" …Cartman.

"Why because you can't be patient enough to have him open up slowly?!" …Kyle.

"How can I do that when you said 'soon as possible,' ya walking douche bag!" …Cartman.

"You don't know what 'soon as possible' means! If it takes longer, fine! What I meant was to not to sit on your ass and do nothing, you dysfunctional retard!" …Kyle.

There was a pause. There was about to be a pause anyway, because I could hardly take anymore of their yelling. I wondered if Cartman was going to come up with something awesome to say back.

But I only heard Kyle again, "Like you're doing now! Crying and eating snacky cakes! Get up and do something if it's making you this upset!"

"I'm not upset, ass muncher! I had something in my eye before! Besides, it doesn't matter, Goddamn it! I already said that!!!" He calmed a little, not by much, "Plus, feelings are for hippie pussies, like you! Go preach to someone else, Jew!" Holy shit! Dejavu! What was this? I could have swore that came out of my mouth a few minutes before.

I heard Kyle kick the snow, probably at Cartman, but who knows? He wasn't exactly the best aim at it. He let out a loud aggravated noise, "I'm sick of both you and Kenny! No, I can't blame Kenny for this! I'm sick of YOU, Cartman! Kenny only acts like you because he looks up to you so Goddamn much!" He let out another pissed off noise and left, as if he didn't know what to say next and didn't care.

Why were people comparing me to him lately? Well, two out of four of us, and me and Cartman were the other two. For some reason, this didn't look good at all.

I was practically frozen out there now. Why did it keep getting colder? Winter, right? You think I'd be use to it by now, since it snow for eleven months on this stupid mountain town. I untied my hood only a little bit pulling out a box of cigarettes and shoving one in my mouth. I lit it, maybe it would warm me up a little. Probably not, but I always say that for reassurance.

Cartman was just on the other side of the wall, while I hid like a baby. I acted nothing like him. He actually waited for me, out in the damn open and I stood here eavesdropping. He was everything and so much more, but he didn't even know it, did he? Maybe he did, but isn't that proud to show it. Did he have problems of his own? If he did, I was self centered and never cared to look. But seeing a problem isn't the same as solving it either.

I heard footsteps, they stopped. I saw the puffs of smoke rise up and around the corner of my hiding place. I sighed, causing more. He obviously spotted me.

He was just around the corner of the building, leaning against that wall. I couldn't see him. We couldn't see each other, but he knew both of us were there, "I'm sorry." He spoke out. He meant it.

"Sorry's not gonna change nothing, dude." I held my head down, looking at my old black shoes. My feet were freezing because of them, "So, don't bother."

"What do you want me to say?" He gave me this sad rejected tone.

"As if I know! I usually just follow you! You're the on with the 'great plans' and 'brilliant ideas.' I just do what I'm supposed to." I said. Asking me such a dumb question, what an idiot.

"You get hurt when you follow me. I want to know what you want, now. I guess, my 'great plans' and 'brilliant ideas' aren't so great… and brilliant!" He couldn't put what he wanted to say in a sentence he liked. It was kind of funny listening to him get frustrated with it.

I didn't say anything. I figured I'd just wait. I didn't feel like talking anyway. Not only that, I didn't think I was supposed to see him again. This time, he came to me.

"Fine, McCormick. You don't have to talk to me, just listen then." He let out a shivered sigh. I wondered if he was as cold as I was. "If you like Stan, fine. You know, just do it, or something. I didn't know and… uh… didn't know." He was having a hard time saying this, but I think I understood what he meant, "Well, if your gay, kewl. No, wait, not kewl. No, kewl. No, it's defiantly kewl. I guess, we can be friends if your gay, because it's kewl." I heard him smack his face and whisper a curse word. In my opinion, he had balls to say that. "I mean, yeah, kewl. And if we're friends we can still hang out. You can still come to my house, but you'd probably want to go to Stan's. But you can still stay at my place for the night because you're gay with Stan. And that's kewl."

I was trying so hard not to laugh at that. He's never talked about this before and been ok with it, has he? I haven't either, so I shouldn't talk. But still. In short, that meant he was fine with me being gay and we can still be friends, and that meant a lot to me. "Thank you, Cartman." The problem was, I didn't like Stan in that way, but I didn't have much of a choice, right?

"Don't thank me. Stan'll probably do a better job at trying to help you anyway. Then, you'll get better." His voice kind of brightened, "Then, we can go sledding and stuff again. That'll be fun."

I snuck my head around the corner, and sure enough I saw him smiling again. I smiled back, "Yeah, it will." I walked over so I could stand next to him now. I can't forget stupid moments like this. The sun even came out from the clouds and it felt warmer, "We're still best friends, right?" I held my hand out to him.

He looked at my brown gloved hand, then at me. He smiled again and held onto it, "Totally." This is what I wanted. I wanted to see this everyday. I wanted to be happy everyday.

I let go of his hand and pulled my arms around him. I rested my head on him. He was so warm. I didn't want Stan, I wanted this. This was my home. This is what I was use to. This is what I had already fell in love with.

"K--Ken--ny?" He just stood there for a couple seconds, then gave in, "Never mind." He put his arms around me and rested his face close to the top of my head. "You know, you should really be doin' this with Stan."

My head went up, causing Cartman's face to loose it's resting spot. I gave him a blunt look, "Quit your bitching," I unzipped his coat and leaned onto him, trying to hold the rest of his coat around me.

He gave off a few laughs and got a better grip on his jacket, and covered me with it. Those large hands rested on my back and looked away. He couldn't look at me for some reason. "You make things so difficult." He said with a little disappointment in it. He said this before, and I still don't know what it meant. To me, it felt easy and carefree.

I traced my fingers down his curved sides. I gave them a squeeze before lifting under and tracing back up on his bare skin, "It doesn't have to. Just stay calm and relaxed." I whispered, then gave him a cute smile.

He was still. His muscles had tightened from my small touches. He whispered to me, "I'm seriouslay, Kenneh. Stop." It didn't sound like he wanted me to stop though. The grip he had on my back tense, he still didn't look my way.

My fingers went up to touch his chest, following his curves down to his thick belly, giving it gentle strokes. "Relax," I said in a soft tone. I lifted a hand up to his flushed cheek, bringing his eyes to me now, "Just relax."

His eyes stayed on me now, deeply connected with mine. One of his hands came up and plucked the stick from my mouth and tossed it. He held my frozen hand in his warm grip and led it back inside his coat, it retuned around me, holding my covering with the other one. He moved in closer, heavily breathing his sweet breath onto me. Our faces inches away. Our mouths parted slightly. Trembling, drawing closer to one another. He swallowed hard and motioned his face higher, his lips resting on my forehead instead, "I can't." He wanted to. I could tell he did. Why did he stop? No! Why did he stop?

I picked and teased at the places people usually call 'problem spots.' In my opinion, it just gave me more to grab. I took in small hand fulls of his skin, pinched and squeezed at them, then found new spots. I knew I was an asshole for doing that, but for some reason his body always made me hot.

I think I hit some sort of weakness. He was tense again, his back practically glued to the wall. His head was facing straight up at the sky. "Stop, Kenneh!" He whined in this cute little high-pitched voice, followed by his harsh breaths and whimpers.

Wrong move. I looked up and all I saw was his unexposed neck. I pushed forward and eagerly suctioned my mouth onto his fleshy neck. I caught some of his skin between my teeth and began to suck at the spot I've chosen.

I caught him off guard again. His fingers dug into his coat, but unharmed me. He panted and moaned out some words. I didn't exactly hear what he said, but it sounded more like "Oh my God" to me. It didn't feel like he was pulling me away. It felt like he was holding me closer. He shook. He was scared, but he brought our bodies closer.

My hands held him a lot more careful. Gentles strokes. Fingers just barely grazing his skin. My tongue picked up small tastes as my lips were bond to his neck. My mouth craved for something more than this. I wanted his lips… and I wanted him to want mine. I slowly made my way towards his throat, then up, but of course not without taking in his flavor on the way there. "Cartman," I whispered his name.

He motioned his head down as I called for him. His eyes on me. He still looked terrified. Those green orbs shook trying their best to look at both my eyes at the same time, "McCormick." He said carefully. I understood why he called me by my last name, because I called him by his.

I slowly came forward. He wouldn't have a reason not to anymore, right? He wanted this, right? As much as me? I closed my eyes and waited a couple inches in front of his face.

I felt him go in, then pull out, only to get so close to my face again. His lips so close, yet so unsure what to do. His forehead practically crashed with mine as he backed off right when he was about to do it too. "McCormick, you know I can't do this."

My eyes opened, he was so close too! I put my arms around his neck and whispered, "Yes, you can." I pulled in, only to feel me get pushed back by one of his hands. I looked at him with disbelief.

"No, I don't want anything to do with this." He brought his head back until it was on the wall. He had a sad, regretful look on his face.

"Nothing to do with…" I stopped myself from saying anything else. I felt like an idiot. What made me think he would actually go through with it. He wasn't gay. He was straight and just felt sorry for me. I was a reject. I knew that. I could have told myself that, but I didn't listen.

The next thing he said was low, like it was a secret or something, "Hey, You don't want me. You want someone who treats you good and doesn't hurt you all the time. Plus, I'm not nearly as good lookin' as other kids in school. Go back to Stan." That miserable look on his face worsened with each word.

"How can you say that!?" I was yelling again. I really needed to stop that. I took a breath in and parted myself from his hold. I remembered how cold it was now, "Look at you, Cartman. How can you say that after seeing yourself?"

His eyes closed, then opened to stare at me, "Easy." His sadness was being replaced with anger as he walked towards me, "Maybe because I don't know the first thing about friendship! Maybe because it's my fault you keep getting worse! I keep fucking up! It's like I try my hardest to do something, then the girly-ass Jew comes to me and tells me how I screwed everything up!"

I kind of stepped back every time he walked towards me. I hated Cartman when he was pissed. Not stupid pissed where he says 'I'm pissed' because he spilled his milk or something. I mean, this. Did I say Stan's eyes looked like a murderer? I was wrong, Cartman's were right now. Winning by a long shot.

He went on, still coming my way, "I know I fuck up all the time! I don't need little Jews pointing that out! I wouldn't feel bad, if I didn't know I did something wrong! I wanna see him do any better! What the Hell is he doing about this!? He's just standing around preaching the fuck out of people! Making them feel ten times worse than they were before!" ..Ten times worse?

I was so scared. What was I suppose to say to his hating words? How was I suppose to make this better? I just wanted him to stop acting like this. I backed up more, trying to keep our distance. What would he do if he was in front of me with all this rage? It's not like I could predict his actions. I already proved that with the failed kiss. Would he finally wring my neck after all these years?

"And then, I got you," Oh God, when he said the word 'you,' it sounded so disgusted, "I'm trying to give you everything, but you still don't give a shit at the end! I give you all this bullshit and your still not happy! Nothing I give you will make you happy! So, why do you keeping taking and taking from me!" His lips curved up into a smirk. It wasn't his smile. It wasn't anything like his smile, "But I did learn that you can run away as long and as far as you want, but you'll come straight back to me! Just so you can make my life more of a living Hell than it already is!"

This situation wasn't going to get better. I turned to run away, but he grabbed my arm before I could. It felt like he was crushing it because he was adding so much pressure on my wounds. I screamed and cried for him to let go. I tried everything in my life to get away. I didn't want to be there anymore. I should have stayed with Stan. I wanted to go home! I wanted as far away from Cartman as I could!

"There's no where else to run, Kenneh." He dragged me in and his other hand wrapped around my throat. "I understand. I understand so clear now. I know how I can save you." What was he talking about? Save me? He got a tighter grip on my neck, "You see it too, Kenneh? You must have, because you've tried it." He dug his fingers into my sore arm.

I cried out in pain. Well, I tried to anyway, but most of my air was being blocked. Tears came again. How could he do this to me? He cared for me for so long.

"My mistake wasn't putting your life in danger that night you got hit by the pickup. It was bringing you back to life. You're an angel. I saw those blue eyes open the day you woke up in the hospital… and I knew you were." His grip didn't loosen even when his words were so calm.

I tried to swallow. It went down hard. I shook, shivering. Oh my God. Was he insane? What was he talking about? My eyes widened. Maybe, I wasn't the crazy one. Maybe, he was. Maybe, as he was getting worse, so was I.

His eyes suddenly got cold. His face turned serious, "I can't believe I was so blind. You're getting more sick because I'm keeping you here. You need to be with all the other angels, Kenneh. I need to… kill you."

What!? He was seriously going to kill me! Why did I have a feeling this would happen one day!? Oh God! I didn't want to die! Not by the person who was protecting me from it! I gasped out as many words as I could. My life depended on it. I needed to do something! I was too young! "I… I…. L…ove… y…ou…" Tears poured out of my eyes, then coughed at the irritation it made in my throat.

"Don't you see, Kenneh. I'm gunna make you better. Then, everything's gunna be okay. We get to go sledding and play videogames. It'll be fun." He said that with such a childish innocence. I don't know how he could say all this with a straight face.

He wasn't making sense at all. I wish someone would come out here and find us, but we were in an area with no windows or anything. I didn't want to die! I never guessed I'd be murderer by Cartman. He might kill Kyle, but not me! I took in a deep breath of air and let it out with all the force in my body, "HELP!!!" I shouted as loud as I could.

He suddenly covered my mouth with the hand he held my arm with. "Sh… I'm the one trying to help you. If you get someone else out here, you'll never get better." I blame this on Kyle! He did this! He just had to push him! I hope he's ready to have a life on his conscience! The stupid Jew!

No one heard me. No one's going to save me. I'm dead. He's gunna kill me. I closed my eyes and was still. I didn't have a choice, did I? I never did. That's what a follower is. You don't have the right to choose your life. You let someone else control it for you. My life was literally in the hands of Cartman, and if this was what he thought was right, so be it. I must in believe what he does, even if it's wrong. That's how I've always been. And whose to say this is wrong? After thinking about it, it kind of made sense. I suffered here enough, right? Maybe it was time for me to go. Finally, be the perfect angel he wanted me to be. Be something higher than a piece of shit in his eyes.

I felt my body drop. I was dizzy. I could hardly breath. I heard nothing. Was I dead? Was I floating? Floating up to Heaven? Did I get those big white wings? Was everyone happy yet? Could I see Cartman's smile for eternity?

"I can't." I heard whispers. It felt like Cartman's soft voice was coming from all directions, "I can't."

I was still cold. I slowly opened my eyes. Pure blue sky above. I laid in freezing snow. I stretched my arms and legs, then just went still. I wanted to know if that was a dream. I pressed my hand to my neck. It was real. My neck was sore. It felt like it was doing sit-ups for five hours straight. "Cartman." My voice came out scratchy.

"I can't do it. I can't save you." He meant well. I knew he did. Anyone else would still consider him crazy, but I understood what he was trying to do now. His eyes were normal, sparkling green like they use to be. He kneeled next to me, looking down, "I'm sorry."

I held my arms out to him, "You tried." I forced a smile, my tears still streaming down my cheeks. I knew how it felt to find out you were nothing, but a failure. You do things you don't mean to. You do things without thinking. You do things you regret. "Come… here." I couldn't catch my voice this time, so I whispered.

He took his time to get into a laying position, next to me. He kind of watched my eyes for a long moment. He seriously wanted to help me. He didn't want me to suffer anymore. But I think we're driving each other deeper and deeper into a mess we can't get out of. Just because we make it sound like it's okay to do these absurd things. We only do that because our trust is way too strong to break, and that could be our weakness. I must have made him think a lot last night. He didn't sleep, did he? He stayed up all night thinking about why I did what I did. If you think about something for so long, it can sound normal the tenth or eleventh time you thought about it.

He snuggled closer to my chest, putting his face there. He held my small body by the waist and stayed there quiet. This was so different. Cartman is such a big guy, but right now as laid with me, he felt so much smaller. He seemed vulnerable to anything and felt like he'd break if I even touched him. That's now how it was suppose to be. He was suppose to help me, guide me. But if he lost touch with reality and had no directions, how could he possibly do that?

My chest felt wet. Could he be crying? It made me wonder. Where was his escape? Who did he have to go for comfort? He had so many responsibilities piled onto him. I was asking a miracle from him. He was only human. I wanted him to be a savior, but he's only human. I can't ask for him to be anything more than that. He was Eric Cartman, not a hero to look up to. He was allowed to have weaknesses. He just hasn't had the time to do so until he falls. Still, as he has fallen, his problems keep building on top of him.

"Don't leave meh…" He tried to cover his voice with a stronger tone, but it was still stained with sadness. He tried to move in closer, but it only made us slide horizontal in the snow. He was as close as he could get to me, and he was scared I would go.

I carefully put one arm on him, then the other. I could never do that to him, right now. I bet any money normal people would have ran the second they were free, but I couldn't. I couldn't leave my home. "Never." I managed to get out. I'm sick of running. It doesn't do any good, because once I'm gone, I end up right back where I started. 


	11. UnjustSin

Cartman made me walk home with him. He didn't want to drive, because the second he looked away, he was afraid I'd be gone. He held my hand and never let go. He was terrified. He didn't want to be alone. Every time my grip loosened, he squeeze it tight to remind me I did so.

I felt his clutch again. My eyes opened a little, falling from my daydream I had been having. I held his hand tight again, even if it felt numb. "Cartman… Let's leave this place together." I had a peaceful smile on my face.

He looked my way, a little confused, "What would that do?" He sighed, "Problems follow you. It doesn't matter where we go on Earth. They come back to haunt us." He watched his feet as he walked.

"What if it wasn't Earth?" I looked his way, "What if we went somewhere much better? A place with no problems, no rules, and we can be ourselves."

He gave me a playful smile, "Yeah? That place is up yo' butt and around the corner, McCormick!" He laughed a few times, then got quiet. Once he actually thought about what he had said, it sounded so wrong.

I laughed now. Seeing him embarrassed like that was priceless. "I'm sure you'd love that, but…" I watched the sky now, "I'm talking about somewhere we can't get to right now."

He looked up, wondering what I was looking at. He watched me again with a blunt look, "Heaven? No, I already said I'm not going there. I'll stay here forever."

I stopped and I brought our hands close to my chest, "I'll be your wings." That sounded like a cheesy line off a really old movie. I rubbed my eyes. They burned and every piece of skin around it felt heavy. I felt a little sick. I lost my balance for a second, but stopped myself from falling.

Cartman watched me stumble. He stopped walking. "Are you ok?" He said with care and took a step my way, "I can take you home."

I forced a smile and nodded, "Yeah. It's a little cold out here." I coughed into my hand and felt a little light headed after doing so. I looked at my glove that was stained with a dark liquid. Blood. I wiped it on my pants and stopped looking at it. I didn't want to scare him more than he already was. I'm sure it was nothing. I was just getting a cold or something.

When he said home, I didn't expect him to take me to my real home. I didn't ask questions though. It would probably be a pain to walk all the way back to Cartman's anyways.

I looked around. It didn't look like anyone was home, unless the car was in the garage. I watched him for a second and said, "Dude, wait here. I'll see if anyone's home. I'll be right back." I finally, let go of his hand. They were like that for so long it felt like I was missing something when I was separated from it. I walked to the door and opened it slowly. Then, went inside. I closed it behind me. "Hello?" I spoke out. I felt kind of stupid because I really doubt anyone was home.

"Hey, son." Someone actually answered back. It was my dad. I guess, he was in the kitchen. But not for long. He walked out into the living room with a beer in his hand, "Where've you been?" He took a sip and just looked at me.

"Uh.. A friend's," I was scared. I couldn't even look him in the eyes. He was so gross. I hated my dad really. If you thought I was trailer trash, just take a look at this guy. Hasn't looked like he's taken a shower in a week. I guess, I was just spoiled by Cartman. I probably looked like that before he was my best friend.

He sat down and gave me this weird smile, "Ya know, boy. The strangest thing happened when I came home last night." He took another sip and made this noise like what he was drinking was refreshing. I knew it was probably old and tasted like a rat's ass.

"Yeah?" I asked. I didn't know what he was getting at, but it didn't sound too good, "What's that?"

"I came home and went to my liquor cabinet. Guess what I found, boy." He gave me this serious tone, like he knew exactly what was there. He expected me to know too.

"Um… What?" I asked, as if I didn't know. I was having a heart attack. He knew I took his shit! What was going to happen now?

"Nothin.'" Nothin'? Was that sarcasm? "Wanna know why I found nothin'?" He asked me.

I didn't answer. I backed up towards the door.

He stood up now, "'Cuz my lil' shit son took it!" He threw his can to the ground and stomped over to me, "My stupid, worthless son who should live outside. Live on the street like the fuckin' piece of road kill he is!" He shouted his alcohol tainted breath on me. He grabbed my arm and held one of his bottles up to my face, "Ya want this!? Ya want this so bad?"

I closed my eyes and tried to hide my face to the door. I wanted to cry out to Cartman to run, but if I did that, my dad might go after him too. I decided to answer his question really quietly, "N-no, sir."

"Why'd ya take it, boy?! You like takin' stuff that don't belong to ya, huh? I gave you an' yer mother a roof o'er yer heads and all ya'll do is complain!" He grabbed me by the collar now so we were face to face, "So, ya wanna steal from the person who's givin' you a home?"

"This house is not a home!" I blurted out. I bit at my tongue, regretting ever doing so.

He gave me that look like I deeply offended him, "You don't like where yer livin', boy?" He ripped off my hood. That question was obviously a question I was suppose to answer, "An' what? Yer 'friend' takes care of you? Fin' yerself a nice boyfriend to do that? Cuz girls don't wanna do that!" His dirty fingers lifted to my hair and he pulled at it, almost ripping out of my Goddamn skull. "He prolly takes care a you real good." What did that mean?

I shook. Hard. I was scared. This wasn't what I wanted. I was thrown to the floor and face scrapping across it. I coughed again. My mouth tasted like blood. Shit! I looked up at him, "Any one can take care of me better than you! You don't do nothin' but drink and yell!"

"I can do a lot more than that, if ya want." He smashed the bottle against the table. It broke and the liquor spilled out from it. He held the it by the nozzle and the ends were sharp and pointed. "Ya ain't been nothin' but trouble to me since you was born."

I tried to sink into the floor as much as I could. I wish I could go through it, or something. I was afraid of dying again. I thought I wasn't, but I was. "N-no! Dad! Don't! Please! I'll be better! I promise!"

The door slammed open. Cartman stood in the doorway. He must have known something was wrong. He either heard the noise or it was taking too long for me to come out. His eyes went to me, then my dad. "What the fuck!?" He asked, completely paranoid. I don't blame him, I was too.

I didn't say anything.

My dad watched me. He smirked, "Wha? This? Ya get ass fucked by a o'er weight son-of-a-bitch?" He laughed and coughed at the same time.

Cartman's stare was on my drunken dad, but he spoke to me, "Come on, Kenny. We're leaving." I didn't look like anything that was said affected him. He was more concerned about my safety.

He nodded and lifted my body up a little.

"Ya move, boy, an' I'll kill ya!" He forced my body back down with his foot.

It felt like he was squishing my lungs out of my chest. I covered both my hands over my mouth and had a coughing fit. I kept choking on more and more blood that spilled into my throat. I was in pain.

"Stop! You're hurting him!" Cartman stepped forward, but kept his distance. He knew there was a weapon in my dad's hand. I think he figured if he got killed, no one would be able to get me out.

My bastard dad thought it was funny that someone actually gave a shit about my worthless self. More pressure was added to my chest.

I felt like I was going to die. I could hardly breathe. My head leaned to the side and choked out a splatter of blood onto the carpet. I gasped for air and coughed some more. What the Hell was wrong with me?

"McCormick!" I really didn't want him to see that. It kind of just happened. I didn't want him to worry. I could tell, he was scared. "Stop! Stop, you asshole!!" He shouted, getting a lot closer.

"Leave an' mind yer own business, kid. This is my son. I'm gunna teach him a lesson." He applied more pressure on me.

Cartman's fist went right to his face, and I have to say he has really hard punches. His large hands were the cause of that, but I was grateful.

A loud 'whack' noise was heard and my dad fell on his ass.

I backed off and scurried across the floor, sitting next to the door. I kept coughing, but keeping it under control was hard.

Cartman pinned him to the ground and began beating his fists into his face. His face was pissed and he was calling him every name in the book. It looked like nothing was going to make him stop. He wanted to kill my dad, didn't he? Shouldn't I feel happy about that? I don't know?

I saw the broken bottle fall from my dad's hand.

I struggled to get over there and take it away so he wouldn't take it and use it. I quickly went back to the door. By the time I turned around again, Cartman was down. My dad was standing up. I hid the weapon behind my back and watched him helplessly.

"Yer not getting' out of this house alive, boy. Not as long's I'm here." He lifted his arm up to wipe a stream of blood off from his lip. I was a little impressed by Cartman. He looked pretty beat up, but he still looked like a threat.

"You don't tell me what to do," I watched him. I didn't want to be afraid of him anymore. I didn't want to fight with him anymore. I didn't want him to hurt me anymore.

"You wanna say that again!?" He went to grab my coat, but stopped.

I don't remember it, but the sharp end of the bottle was sticking into his throat. My boney fingers were wrapped around it. I… killed him. His neck sprayed the maroon liquid on my face. I couldn't believe what I just did. What have I done? "D-Dad…" I let go of the weapon and just watched his face.

He panted in and out, trying to take in as many breaths as he could. He was looking up, his eyes looked like they were rolling around freely. Those same eyes leaked tears, mixing with his gushing wound. "Y-yer still… nothin'… to me… boy…" His body fell back and took one dying breath, before he laid still. He'd probably never move again.

I closed my eyes, pretending that didn't happen. It did. I felt the liquid on my face. I remember everything. I was scared. I was just like him, wasn't I? I hope I never have kids so I won't hurt them like this. I was a horrible person. I killed my own father. The person who brought me on this stupid Earth. I loved him and hated him for that same reason. I stood and ran out the door. I coughed more, leaving a blood trail behind me. What have I done…?

I was out of it most of the day. I heard Cartman talking about burring the body and cleaning everything up. People were going to find out. I knew.

My mind came back a little bit and I was sitting in his bathtub naked. I guess no one could see anything because of the bubbles. It smelled nice. Like, flowers and stuff. I don't know if I'd smell like a fruitcake after this. It didn't matter, right? I was gay.

Cartman kneeled next to me and pushed his sleeves up. He plucked a wash cloth off the towel rack and soaked it in the water, then wringed it. "Kenneh, don't worry. I'll take care of everything, you'll see." Doubtful. He could hardly control me, let alone take care of a problem like this. "Close your eyes." He ordered in a soft voice.

I did. All I could see was my dad's last stare. His eyes were dark, not like mom's. I had mom's eyes, crystal blue. I realized, Stan's eyes weren't the same as mine. His were a darker shade of blue. The darker eyes were, the more evil they looked, to me. But Cartman's were different. He had a light tint of green, but they could be both ways sometimes. Evil light.

He rubbed the cloth on my face, removing the dried, frozen blood-chips on my face. It wasn't my blood. That was the sad part about it. He had to rinse the rag off a couple times before getting it all off. "Good." He smiled, then went to my neck. You'd think, for Cartman, he'd be rough with this sort of thing, but he was gentle.

Me, on the other hand, I felt like a puppy. A mutt. A dog who needed a bath and their owner was giving them one. But it also felt like how a mother would bathe their child. Not that I would remember how that felt. It made me relaxed. Safe, for now.

The cloth massaged my back now. Carefully hitting each bone on my spine, then back up. He went to each side of my shoulder blades then down to my sides. He dunked the rag into the water and started with my chest and stomach, "Jesus, McCormick. You're so thin."

I didn't respond to that. I knew it wasn't a complement. I didn't feel like doing much of anything right now. Just sit and do nothing. I didn't like this at all.

His hand went over to a knob and he took the removable shower head down. "Lean your head back," I figured he did that instead of dunking my head into the water, because there were chunks of blood just floating aimlessly in it.

I did as he said, and just stared at the ceiling for awhile.

He wet my hair a little, running his fingers through it, making sure it was completely wet. He picked up the shampoo and squeezed some into his hand. It made this really funny squirting noise. He rubbed those hands together so it'd get foamy and caressed it into my hair.

My eyes closed and I relaxed more. It felt really good. I couldn't make washing my hair feel this nice in a million years. Why does it feel so different? What's the difference between two touches? Maybe I was just use to my own.

He washed it off and placed his hand above my eyebrows, so no soapy water would get in my eyes. Rest on my forehead, push back the water that was trying to fall down, then kept doing that until it was rinsed off. He rubbed his hand at the top of my head playfully and went to another container with conditioner inside.

I lifted my arms and pushed my messed locks back in place. They ended at the very bottom of my neck. I felt it for a little while and wondered if that's how long my hair really was. I guess, I needed a hair cut. I tried to remember the last time I got one. I couldn't remember. I'm very forgetful. I saw he was going for my head again, so I leaned back again, "I need a hair cut.." I said, quietly.

He stopped for a second and smiled, "Ok," He rubbed his hands together, but this time, no bubbles. He rubbed at my head again, then started to untangle my strands with his fingers. They came out easily. He did that for a long while. I think he was just dazing off and thinking about something else. I don't blame him, and since he was so gentle, I could hardly complain.

I wondered what he was thinking about. Most likely about what happened. I thought about it now. I'd be taken to jail, wouldn't I? At least Cartman wouldn't get in trouble, right? He didn't do anything. He could live a normal life. And… he would… forget about… me. Tears came down my face, but I cried silently. He didn't have to know this feeling was crushing me inside. He didn't have to know that I hated everyone who noticed him. He knew so many people. Everyone in school knew his name. I hated them all. They were all a danger to our friendship. The only thing I could get at this moment.

I lost track of time again. He kissed the top of my head and whispered, "Get dressed, now." He stood up, wiping his damp hands on a towel and walked out.

I looked over to the toilet seat. A towel waited for me. I took it in my hands and wiped my face off. It still felt like there was blood there. I cried for a minute, thinking about what I had done, but I got out and wrapped the cloth around my waist and walked out.

I turned the corner and saw him sitting on his bed. His back was resting on the wall and his eyes were closed. He must have been tired. I don't blame him. This day was fucking stressful.

I went to his doorway and stood there, just watching him. I was wondering if he was sleeping or not; and if he was, should I wake him up?

I came closer, taking in his features that the lighting from his window made so visible. He was so peaceful. I loved how he looked. I like his face. It doesn't matter what expression you put on it, it always has this gorgeous look to it.

His eyes opened with a tired look. Once he saw me standing there, a smile curved onto his face. "Kenny," He hummed out my as if he was happy to see me. His legs spread apart and patted the now empty spot with his hand, "Com'ere."

My stomach dropped. Why was I so nervous? I walked to the bed and sat down, scooting closer to my back rested on his front side and I let my arms lay on his legs. I saw the mirror on his closet door again. I saw me and him. We didn't look the same as before. When we were happy. We looked sick. We looked tired. We looked like we had enough.

He saw the reflection. He looked away as if he didn't want to see it. He played with the bottom stands of hair that hung passed my neck. He whispered, "Hey, I told you to get dressed." He pressed his face into my shoulder, waiting for my excuse.

I rose my hand up and back, to play with his hair. Obviously, his was a lot shorter. It was also really soft. I leaned my head back onto him, giving into some sort of weakness from his breaths on my shoulder blade. "I know," I said in a lazy voice, "I don't wanna wear that right now."

He laughed, "What? I gave you a bath, you want me to dress you too?" He nuzzled at my shoulder, then lifted his head so his lips would lay there.

I smiled and blushed. I didn't mind that idea at all, but I wouldn't make him do that. I turned my head to whisper in his ear, "Nah. I'll just barrow somethin.'" It was hard to leave and stand up, but I'd be back there in a second. I went to his closet and opened it, choosing something. I grabbed onto a hanger and revealed a big black shirt. I placed the hook of the hanger in my mouth and undid my towel, but still holding it up so Cartman couldn't see anything, yet. I looked over my shoulder with a smirk, still having the hanger between my teeth.

His eyes were opened wide as his back wasn't against the wall anymore. It was funny. His attention was on the towel, until he looked up at me. He saw I was looking at him and he looked away quickly. His cheeks turned pure red.

I dropped it, my ass no longer hidden. My eyes on the shirt, taking it off the hanger as slow as I could, like it was something hard to do. There was a small portion of the mirror where I could see what he was doing without him knowing I was looking.

He noticeably saw the towel fall from the corner of his eye. He looked at my face to see if I was looking. He saw that I wasn't. His gaze fell lower and smiled with great interest. His lips even mouthed the word, 'Damn.'

I slowly slipped the shirt on and nothing else. It was a little higher than fingertip length, so I was good. Well, I thought so. I turned back around and began walking towards him.

He gave me a look like, 'That's all you're wearing?' The way I see it, I was wearing less clothes while I was wearing a towel, what was the difference now?

I sat back in between his legs, pushing a little closer than he'd probably liked. You know, lengths really change when you sit down. The shirt didn't exactly cover all of my ass now. "Better?" I asked, with a smart ass tone of voice.

"You're retarded!" He shouted, loud. Did I piss him off? He pulled his arms around me and spread his legs farther apart, so he could bring me closer. He took the collar of the shirt between his teeth and pulled it off my shoulder so he could press his lips there, like he was doing before. He muffled something, but I only got, "But I…" His voiced was stained with frustrated lust. Was I making him hot?

I let my arm hang back a little and let one of my fingers hang onto one of his jean loops. I felt him getting antsy and moving around a little. I leaned as far back as I could and brushed my lips across the lining of his ear before whispering, "What was that?"

"MMmmm…" He moaned out, probably feeling my lips on his ear. He rocked his body (along with mine) back and forth, kind of grinding his jeans onto the bare part of my ass. His breath quickened and his hand reached down to the bottom part of the black shirt. "McCormick…" He said quietly, then grazed his teeth against the skin on my shoulder.

"Fuck! No!" He pushed away, as if he just realized what he was doing. He panted hard and forced his hands onto his eyes, "Shit! Goddamn it!" He bent his knees up and brought one across so I wouldn't be able to sit in the spot I was before, "Crap! This is so wrong!" He was paranoid. He was scared. He was plain freaking out.

I just watched him, kind of mad. He made me horny with him, and then he backed off. I still wanted his attention. I placed my hands on top of his, so I could keep him from looking. I leaned forward and tried to steal a kiss.

He pushed me away from him and gave me a bitter stare, "Kenneh! Get some clothes on, damn it! Fuckin' ho!" I could tell he was forcing his anger. He wanted to go on with what he was doing, but what was stopping him!?

I got up and gave my own rotten look to him, before going to his dresser. I bent down and opened a drawer. I knew my ass was hanging out. That was my point. I just sat there, taking my time in picking out a choice of pants.

"Goddamn it, Kenneh…" I heard him whisper to himself. Then he stood up, stomping over to me. He picked out some boxers and knelt down, "Pick one foot up," He ordered.

"Fine," I said with a pout and did what he said. I waited, knowing what my next step was.

He placed the leg hole around my first leg. He watched me for a second, then sighed. "Your other one now?" He said with aggravation.

"Humph!" He did what I was told, but I wasn't happy with it.

Once he got me to do that, he brought the shorts up and tied the string tight. The strings were long as hell even with a double knotted bow. "There," He got to his feet and left the room. He stopped at the end of the hallway and placed his fingers on his head, cursing here and there.

I was about to walk out there with him, but the doorbell rang. Who was here? I watched the glowing green light on the clock that said, '5:45.' It was that late already? Me, being nosey, I waited until Cartman heard it and walked down the stairs. Then, went into the hallway and stood by the stairs. I listened.

The doorbell rang over and over until the door was actually opened. Has anyone every heard of patience? I heard the door click open slow, then crash open.

"Eric Cartman!" High pitched voice, Kyle. He stomped his way inside, probably on his own will, "Where the Hell were you!? I waited out in the parking lot until every, single Goddamn car left! You said you'd give me a ride home, you ass!"

I can imagine that blunt look on Cartman's face, "Did I say that? Oh, whoops." He said, not really meaning it.

"Whoops?" Kyle questioned, then repeated with a louder tone, "WHOOPS?! Whoops, nothing, Cartman! I was freezing my ass off! You're so irresponsible sometimes! Sometimes I wonder what you're thinking in that retarded brain of yours!" He was silent for about two seconds before he went back on his yelling spree, "No, wait! No, I don't!" He yelled out of aggravation, "My God! You're so stupid sometimes! You need to write shit down! Maybe I need to lodge it far into your stupid peanut brain! Maybe all that fat is clogging your thinking space!"

I could tell all of this was going in one ear and out the other with Cartman. It was for me. "You know what, Kyle? I forgot. Okay? I can't go back and change that."

The Jew calmed himself, "Alright, fine." He grew silent again, "Is Kenny here? I heard about his dad. Everyone knows."

My heart stopped. What? Cartman said he's take care of it!?

"Yeah," I hear Cartman again, "It's a shame." For some reason he sounded like he knew what he was doing. I guess, I had to trust him. If he wasn't worried, then I knew he had it under control, right?

"Who would have guessed Butters, though? I never expected him to be dangerous," Kyle sounded sad. I felt bad. I think I knew what they were talking about. Cartman must have set Butters up. He was thinking on his toes. He wasn't as dumb as he looked.

"How do you know who's dangerous and who's not, Kyle? A killer can be the nicest most trustworthy friend you know. Not saying that's true all the time, but shit like that happens," Cartman said that with such a serious tone. I felt horrible after he said that. That was aimed at me… wasn't it?

"Yeah," Kyle said, obviously not having anything to add to that, "Still, is Kenny here? I'd like to talk to him. I want to know if he's alright."

"Upstairs," Cartman simply stated.

I ran back into the bedroom. I forced myself to look sad, which wasn't hard after hearing that. I sat on the bed with my legs folded Indian style. I waited for Kyle now.

The Jew walked in cautiously and gave me a smile, "What's up, dude?" He wove his hand, trying to be friendly.

I just stared at him. I didn't want to talk to him really. I looked away. I wanted to talk to Cartman. I looked down at my lap. No, I wanted Cartman.

His face turned sad, "Kenny." He came to me and hugged me, "I'm sorry about what happened. I know things aren't getting any better for you, but please don't give up!" Was he worried now? Why?

"Shut up," I said quietly, only to have a few tears escape the corners of my eyes. I never real considered Kyle a real friend. Why did he have to care?

"You have to get better, Kenny! Please! I don't want to lose another friend!" He was practically screaming these word to me. Talk about a total drama queen.

I saw Cartman leaning against the door way, watching. He looked a little pissed. His arms were folded across his chest and his stare was more on Kyle, "Shut up, Jew. The last thing he probably wants is you wiping your Jew boogers on him." The sentence he added hurt really bad, "Plus, Stan's his bitch."

The Jew let go and turned to him, "I'm just worried! Unlike you, have things called emotions and I don't fucking care what you say! I want Kenny alive, unlike you!" He meant that a different way, because he's not 'helping' me 'get better.'

Cartman watched him with an ugly look. That hit him hard because he took what he said another way. They way where he actually tried to kill me. Kyle wouldn't know about that ever. "You know what, Jew? I don't like your fucking 'emotions.' In fact, Stan doesn't like them either, and that's why he's Goth now." He stood there, still.

Kyle took a step back, "That's not true!" It was, wasn't it? He looked at me, "Right?"

I watched him wide-eyed. Why would I know? Oh, wait. Me and Stan were 'together,' I forgot. "Well…" I started, "Pretty much. I mean, he doesn't like you because you act like a whiny girl." I guess, I shouldn't have went that far, but he kind of deserved that too.

He stood there silent, thinking this over, "No…" He looked up at a random wall in the room, "It was my fault…?" He fell on his knees in disbelief. He was taking this a little too far. "That's why?"

Cartman tsked, "I could have told you that a long time ago, moron. Think about it. He's mad at girls because he thinks they're all against him. How many bad influences of girls does he have so far? Wendy, his sister, his mom. When he has no one to turn to, do you really think he wants to turn to someone else who acts like a bitch, Jew? No. So, he had no one else to trust and he turned Goth again."

The room felt cold. It was so quiet. Cartman's words actually made some-what of sense.

Stan's words repeated in my head: "Now… That's what I want… A man who takes control… Not a prissy little girl like Kyle…"

I spoke out, "You need to be there for him. Even when it's hard, you sometimes need to be the stronger person. I mean, if you start crying all over someone, like you were doing to me, that's just pathetic. That isn't what they need. They need someone who understands and they're suppose to be the one crying, not you. Not you, thinking about how it will hurt you. That's just down right rude and selfish. You should slap yourself in the face next time you do that." I didn't know I was going on and on about the subject.

I looked up, Cartman had a proud smile on his face. He was impressed by my words? He might also be happy because Kyle finally looked like the dumb ass that doesn't know anything.

"What should I do now? Stan won't talk to me," Kyle… ask someone else what he should do? Maybe he should give himself a good long preach.

"Make him listen," Cartman was the who would answer now, "If he sees that you've changed, maybe he'll sit down and talk to you for once. Hell, I bet anyone will! Even me."

Kyle got to his feet and looked at me then, to Cartman. He rubbed his eyes to get rid of his tears, "I guess, you're right." He smiled a little, "Both of you." He walked towards the doorway and gave Cartman's wrist a small squeeze, "Thank-you." His grip slid off as kept his pace.

Cartman shut his eyes, not looking at him once, "Good luck."

For hating each other, they had a pretty close connection. Well, more than you would think. Despite all that bickering, fighting, and mean jokes on each other, they were still really good friends. I bet any money they would go out of their way to help each other. They'd probably pretend they hadn't at the end, but still. That's why I've always been so jealous of them. If they dropped all the fighting, they could possibly even be closer than Stan and Kyle have been a couple months before. If that happened… I'd be replaced.

I laid back on the bed and watched the ceiling. What if Kyle had already replaced me? They seemed close right now. What if Cartman was only helping me because he felt sorry for me? What if, the reason why he can't show any emotions back to me, is that they're together? What if they fell in love behind my back?

I buried my face into the Cartman scented pillow. Maybe I shouldn't ask 'What if' anymore. I can't think of that right now. I have to focus on what I have… which isn't a lot when I actually think about it. But if he was happy with him? I couldn't be sad, because he's happy. I'd have to be happy for him. Both of them. I couldn't be a stupid cry baby, like Kyle was being. Practice what you preach…

The bed springs squeaked and weight had been shifted onto the bed. It had to be Cartman. There wasn't anyone else here. He placed a hand on my back, "You okay?"

I lifted my head up, so he could see my face. I forced a smile, but my lips shook wanting to frown so bad. I made little whimpering noises, trying so hard to choke back my sobs and hold back these tears. "Y-yeah! See?" I pointed at my ridiculous face.

"Liar," He said, more in a neutral tone of voice and gently pushed my face back into the pillow, "A lot happen today. You're allowed to cry. Don't think you're a pussy, like Kyle if you do." Two fingers came up to the back of my neck and rubbed there.

I began to cry. I wasn't like Kyle, was I? I was nothing like him. He had the pretty face Cartman probably liked. What am I? A piece of shit! I'm a murderer. He could never love a murderer. What if I kill him too? Maybe not today, but one day. One day, he'll be laying there dead and all I'll remember is there being a weapon in my hand. I have nothing. I don't want to hurt him. 


	12. ViewPoint

Cartman and me go back about eleven years or so. Born here, in the small town of South Park, Colorado. Back when there were little shops owned by people who practically lived next door to us. Well, not by me. Over where there are bigger houses. Normal houses. Houses with two stories.

I liked walking by there. Over the train tracks, to the normal side of town. Wishing I was there. Wishing I was normal too.

I remember one time I left the house. I was about six and I promised myself I'd run away and find a better place to live even if it was on the streets.

I walked and kept walking all that day. It was hard to keep my pace after sun down though. Winter, being dark, meant it got twice as cold. It felt like my skin was freezing over. After my legs couldn't take it anymore I collapsed in the snow. I couldn't move. I couldn't get up to walk back home. It was way too far from where I was, so I laid there freezing and shivering.

"Dude! Look!" I didn't know at the time, but that was Stan's voice. "It looks like a body!" Footsteps ran over to me, stopping close to my head. He poked the back of my head with his shoe. "Think it's alive?" He shouted over to someone else.

"Who cares. It's not like it's our problem anyways." That someone else was Cartman. "I want to get home, I'm freezing my ass off, and it's all your fault!" I heard him shudder, then lodge his foot at my head a little less carefully. "Aye! Aye! Get up!"

"My fault?" Stan sounded offended. "Dude, you said you wanted to go to my football game!" I think he stopped Cartman's foot, because he stopped poking me with it. "And watch it! This kid could still be alive!"

"Yo just mad because you have no other friends, but meh!" Cartman spat back.

"It's not like you do either, fatass!" He kneeled down and pushed my body over so I was laying on my back now. He watched my face, but saw the white steam clouds my breath was making. "I think he's alive." He shook my shoulders. "Hey, kid! You okay?"

"Good. He's alive, let's go!" Cartman turned away, about to walk.

My eyes slowly opened, now looking at the dark haired kid. I coughed a couple times and answered back with my hood muffling my voice: "Yeah, I'm fine." I tried to move, but couldn't.

He looked up at his friend. "Hey, fatass! Don't walk away! I need your help, he doesn't look too good." He watched as his friend slowly walked over to us. Stan looked down at me. "Can you walk?" He stood up a little and held my hands, waiting until I was ready to get up.

I carefully moved my legs, so my feet were firmly on the ground. I stood up, but still held onto the dark haired kid. My legs felt like they were freezing and burning at the same time.

Stan watched his friend with a angered look. "Dude, don't just stand there! Help me!"

"Help you?" Cartman said, as if he were accused of murder. "Help you do what?"

The boy supporting me put my other arm around his neck and walked over to Cartman. "Get his other arm and help me drag him to your house!"

Cartman just sighed and went over to me, putting my arms around him. I remember him being way warmer than Stan. He mumbled something like "Damn, I have to do everything around here." He said it low enough that I just barely heard it and Stan didn't at all.

After that and a few days after, they let me be their friend. Kyle was still out of the picture at the time. I never really pictured Stan and Cartman being friends at all, but once I saw how they interacted with each other I was sure they sucked at being each other's friends. Cartman would just rant and complain about everything and how Stan was stupid and boring. And Stan, he just ignored him. To tell the truth, I didn't think Stan wanted any friends.

So, it was another one of those hangout days. The three of us on Cartman's couch, watching TV. So, we have Cartman who says anything that's on his mind. Stan who's not really an easygoing guy who likes to talk. And I think I fell under the category of shy. Think about it, it's kind of hard to talk to friends like that.

"So, where you live, Kenneh?" Cartman asked, out of nowhere.

What was I suppose to say? In the ghetto, right pass the train tracks. I stumbled on a few words. "A house?"

He just stared at me. "I know that, you dipshit, but which one?" They caught onto what I was saying a lot quicker than I thought. I never expected them to understand a word, but they did.

"Dude, we should go over to his place some time," Stan said. It was actually one of his first words since he stepped foot inside.

"No!" I shook my head, kind of defensive.

"What? It's not like you live in one of those pieces of shit on the other side of town." Cartman laughed after his statement.

I didn't.

That changed everything and I was constantly being picked on for being poor. I was the butt of every joke. And after awhile, it didn't really bother me that much. I realized, I've been called worse.

One night, we had a sleepover, at Cartman's, obviously. Stan didn't come for some stupid reason I couldn't remember. It was going to be different, since it was always the three of us. I didn't really feel comfortable.

"Jesus Christ! I can't believe I have to be stuck with yo poe ass all night!" Cartman shouted as he sat on his bed.

I was getting my space on the floor ready to be slept on. I didn't have to do much. Just put my ugly looking blanket on the floor. I laid on the floor with the thin cover over me. For some reason, his floor felt a lot more comfortable than I thought.

"That's your sleeping bag!?" He pointed at my blanket, laughing as hard as he possibly could.

I pretended I was already asleep. I really didn't feel like being made fun of right now. He couldn't put any more jokes on me if he didn't have anyone to listen to him, right? Usually, he'd do it anyways.

"Get that disease infested rug off my floor, brush yo teeth, and sleep up here." He rolled over, stealing the best part of the bed. The wall part! (Everyone fights over that side, duh). You know, the side where the mattress is up against the wall and you don't have that fear of falling off.

I went to the bathroom and did what he said. I was really tired. Just thinking about sleep makes me want to go to sleep. The light was off by the time I entered the room again, so I went straight to the bed. I laid down, but sprung back up, and onto the floor. There was a sharp sting on my ass cheek. I picked out what was sticking out of my skin. I was pissed. I actually believed he would do something this nice? Not on my life.

He pointed at me and laughed. "Did you think I was going to let you sleep up here?! AH HA! You couldn't see the tack on my bed!?" He spent a good minute laughing and pointing at me. "God, Kenneh! Yo so poe, you can't even pay attention!" That was the oldest joke, but he laughed at it like he just made it up or something.

I took my thin cover that was on the floor and tried to make myself comfortable. Not only that, but I felt like an idiot because I believed him. "You're a pain in my ass." I rubbed my ass cheek one more time and fell asleep on the ground. I had to remember to never have a solo sleepover with Eric Cartman.

My eyes opened. I looked over to Cartman's mirror closet door. I was still Kenny McCormick. Sixteen, junior in High School. That was the first time in awhile since I had one of my flashback dreams. I really don't understand why I had that kind of dream right now.

I looked around. Where the Hell was Cartman? I heard his breathing. He had to be in the room, but where? He wasn't on the bed.

I looked over the side of his bed and found him sleeping on the floor. His arms acted like a pillow for his head and he was on a notebook. His fingers twitched once with a pencil between the index and middle. He must have fallen asleep doing his homework. Homework? Well, I guess this wasn't my first time catching him actually doing an assignment outside of school. He's usually way too lazy to do that and would give me a dollar to copy my answers. That's the reason why I always did my homework (Unless, I seriously couldn't).

I looked back on my dream/flashback. He sure has changed a lot since then. I probably wouldn't even consider him to be my friend back then. He was a stupid asshole no one liked and he always got everything he wanted. What was he now? He has to be at least a friend because I got his bed, while he got the floor. That is a big difference, isn't it? It's a little hard to believe that this room was the same room a few years back.

I was curious about what he was writing. I carefully took the notebook from under his arms, inch by inch. I didn't want to wake him. I wouldn't want to be woken up either. I looked at the clock, 2:16. Two in the morning? What was I doing up? What day was it? Did we have school tomorrow? I guess, since he was doing homework. I shrugged that off for a second.

There was enough light outside for some reason. I watched the window. It was a street lamp. A lamp close to the street. Wow, maybe that's why it's called a street lamp.

I began to read:

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Eric Cartman

English III

Period-4th

Good Vs. Evil

The world is filled with many opposites. There's never one without the other. Smart, stupid; right, wrong; big, small; hot, cold; wet, dry; and so on. But there is always a battle between each one. The biggest one is good versus evil. When someone would hear that, what would you think of first? Maybe, a hero and a villain. What truly makes a hero or a villain? Heroes save and villains destroy. Heroes are strong and villains are weak. Heroes go to Heaven and villains go to Hell.

First, heroes save and villains destroy. The people such as firemen and police would be considered heroes. Some unrealistic ones are Superman and Spiderman. They go around saving people's lives for a living. If they go around helping people so others can survive, what is their life? Do they have one? Are they like the Asians and not have a damn life? What's a villain? A bank robber and a murderer? Poor people rob banks, easy as that. Why should we punish them for that? I don't see the fucking president starving or living on the damn street. And half the time, a murderer is someone who wants revenge or is doing it in self-defence. It isn't self-defence when bystanders are snooping around and telling cops a different story. In that case, I think the cops are the villains.

Second, heroes are strong and villains are weak. Most think that, but it's not exactly true, is it? They don't put how heroes fail in little kiddie cartoons. Heroes can't be brave and strong all the time. They have a weakness. Heroes are nothing but people too. Pussies that stand out from the crowd and try to do something with their life because most likely everyone around them ignores them. They die in honour. Villains aren't weak at all. They can even be stronger than heroes because they have a past and a memory behind them. While heroes come from nowhere and are nothing but rookies (just beginning to understand life), villains spend most of their life planning what they want to do for revenge.

Third, heroes go to Heaven and villains go to Hell. Is that fair? Do heroes even know or understand how a villain feels? Heroes are self-centred and probably watch themselves in the mirror every second of the day saying, like: "Oh my God, I'm so hot!". Running around in their stupid pansy tights saving the world. Villains are always looked down at no matter who they are or what they do. That's because they're so different from heroes. Heroes kill villains and they still go to Heaven. I think that's total bull. I mean, a villain can kill himself, but he'd still go to Hell. God's rules. So, what's a villain supposed to do? Go on living this life trying to avoid every hero out there. Pretend like they like living?

In conclusion, I THINK THIS IS BULL!!!

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It ended like that.

I had a bad feeling when I read through it. He gave a different perspective. It was almost as if he was trying to defend villains. More than that, it kind of felt like he was comparing villains to himself. Why? He hasn't done anything wrong, right? He seems innocent, but I could be wrong. I've been wrong in the past.

I tried to sneak the notebook back where it was. For some reason, I didn't want him to know I read it. It felt like I step into a boundary I wasn't supposed to be in. Sort of like him being in my head. Listening and reading my thoughts. I guess, I was doing the same to him.

His hand grabbed my wrist right as I was putting it back. It felt more like I surprised him than him being mad. Like I said, I could be wrong. He lifted his head up, but his eyes didn't open all the way until he was a couple inches away from my face. "What time is it?" He whispered.

I felt a little shaky. It felt like I was doing something illegal. I swallowed and answered back. "I think, two in the morning."

"What?" He said with a You got to be kidding me-type of voice. He shook his head and blinked a few times to fix his vision. He sounded a little more awake now. "Why are you up?"

"Cant sleep," I spoke, plain and simple. I felt drained and empty. I can be this close to Cartman and nothing else. He could give me everything in the world, but not the one thing I wanted from him. Something money can't buy.

He eyed me, a little concerned. "Everything alright?" He brought his fingers up to his eyes and rubbed at them. "Want me to get you anything?"

I gave him a little pout. "Can you sleep up here?" I let my fingers slide against his neck. "Please?"

He gave a relieved smile as if he was going to say "Is that all?" He let go of my wrist and placed his hand on the side of the bed so he could push himself up. Once he got to his feet, he stretched causing him to hold his arms up in the air. I snuck a glance of the bottom part of his belly. Hooray for his shirt being messed up.

I secretly placed the notebook back down, where it would have been if I hadn't stolen it. I was thankful that I didn't have to explain that. I got under the covers again and cuddled my face into the pillow. "Do we have school in the morning?" I asked. It came out muffled between my lips and the pillow, but I had a feeling he understood me.

"Yep," He answered with a laugh. "Every Saturday." I understood it was sarcasm after he said it. He scratched at his side and got onto his bed. His head kind of collapsed onto his pillow and he whispered, tiredly: "You better hope I get to sleep." He wasn't even under the covers, and I didn't think he was about to either.

I kicked the blanket off me and slipped my body next to his. It was hard to get close to him because he was laying on his stomach. I forced myself under his arm and let a leg and an arm hang over him. I let my head rest next to his shoulder so I could purposely feel him breathing down my neck.

"Mmmm." I could feel his chest vibrate as he hummed out: "You smell good." Maybe he forgot he gave me a bath not that long ago. The arm that was covering me, tightened a bit. He blew a few soft laughs to my neck.

My body tingled. Literally starting at my temples, to my ears, down my spine, and slowly overcame every part of my skin. When did his laugh get so sexy? I nuzzled my face into the fabric of his shirt, wanting to get out a stupid girly squeal. I, obviously, didn't, but it was tempting. My teeth sunk into that same shirt, accidentally grabbing a little skin under it.

I could feel his body tense and his spine straighten out for the two seconds of my bite. He relaxed after, combing his fingers through my hair. "Sure you don't want something?" He let another quiet laugh escape him and hit my neck.

My heart skipped a beat and it felt like I had to release the tingling sensation out with one noticeable shudder. It didn't help. It only left small bumps all along my skin, feeling like every hair on me was raised. My face met his and I had this helplessly desperate look. I whispered to him: "And if I do?" I looked into those brilliant green eyes, only to have my cheeks burn all the way up to the tips my ears.

For some reason he seemed to stay calm, having this amused smile across his lips. "I might give it to you." He placed his hand on my hot cheek. Why do I have this weird feeling he knew what I wanted?

My hand that was laying on him, grabbed the side of his shirt and resting my knuckles on what was under it. I pulled forward. I was shaking. I don't know why. Was I scared, or excited? I shook, I couldn't stay still. I passed his face and drew closer, resting my cheek on his. What would he say when I'd ask him? What if I'd tell him what I wanted? Would he turn me away? Would he be so ashamed of me? Would I be alone? I couldn't get out what I wanted to say. My teeth were chattering too much and the words wouldn't find my tongue. This would change everything. This would change how we acted. This would change how we saw each other. This would change how we went on living, forever. How could I say my next words? How could I do that with so much pressure put on me? I didn't want anything to change, but I didn't want it going on the way it was now.


	13. DragDown

Why couldn't I hear anything else but my breathing and the pounding of my heart? I was laying so close. I was so close. So close to making everything real. But some how I was afraid. I wouldn't let myself talk and say something that might kill everything. It feels like I haven't been this afraid in my life, even after everything that has happened.

I think he could feel me struggling with what I was going to do next. He rubbed my back and tried to soothe my trembling (not that it worked or anything). He pulled me back a little, watching me with a smile, that and so his body could face me now. "Relax," He spoke in a soft tone. Relax? I usually tell THAT to him.

My eyes looked down, seeing how close we were. Somehow, this was different than the many other times we laid next to each other. It was in this same bed too. I whispered out something that not even I could hear.

His fingers swept across my cheek and a thumb gently pushed my chin up. He gave me an innocent smile, "Can you say that again? I didn't hear you." Surprised. He usually understand everything I say, even when I don't mean for him to.

I wanted to look away again, but I couldn't. I was drawn to his eyes. Why do I love them so much? They're even more attractive with his smile. I pushed forward and whisper my words. Taking the biggest risk I've done. "Kiss me…" I closed my eyes tight, not wanting to know what would happen next. I don't want to see his face. I probably pushed that smile of his away forever. Was he even looking at me? I didn't want to know. I didn't want to know how this would end. I should have kept my mouth shut, shouldn't I have? I wanted to just crawl under a fucking rock and stay there until I died. I'd be long gone before I'd show my face. He probably hates me. He would hurt me.

His palm was placed on my cheek.

I flinched. Here it comes. What would he do? What would he do? What would he do?

I felt his warm presence as he leaned in closer to my face. He breathed out three times (I counted), before closing the gap between us. We were connected. His soft lips covered my bottom one and slowly slid off to make the most satisfyingly small smack noise.

I laid there, completely limp. Did that happen? It felt like a dream. I swore I saw a pink background with butterflies around us. I guess, I felt high. I opened my eyes in a total daze and watched him. He did do what I thought he did. He did. He had kissed me and I could only watch him, still giving me that smile.

His cheeks were tinted pink. He probably couldn't believe what he had done either. His eyes wandered away from me for a second, but eventually met mine again. He swallowed and spoke nervously, "So, uh… anything else?"

My chest rose and fell. I felt like I was having a heart attack, hyperventilating, but in a good way. You know that awesome feeling of it being the first day of summer and you know there's nothing to worry about? That's how it felt. I could almost smell the ocean water for some reason. I don't know why? So, that was it? He excepted me? He shared the same feelings? I blinked. Did he just ask me a question? It didn't matter. I pulled my arms around his neck and pressed my lips against his, trying to keep them together while smiling. It wasn't working so well, but I didn't care at that moment.

We were both smiling. We couldn't keep it together, could we? Maybe we couldn't believe it. I, personally, never thought I'd see the light of this day. I'd give everything just to stay like this forever.

We separated just to watch each other again. He looked different. He looked happy. I didn't feel uncomfortable laying so close to him anymore. He's given me everything, and more. His smile fades and so does mine. Not in a bad way. It felt serious. Still, not in a bad way.

We kissed again, but this time it was different. It was more passionate and our lips reached deeper than before. We both liked the taste of it, I could tell because we went back in for more. Our faces were a lot closer now, pressed together as close as possible.

I couldn't help but open my mouth wider with each kiss. I loved how he tasted. Never in my life could I describe it. No one else would ever understand how it felt. Which makes me even happier. Before even thinking anything else, I feel something warm and soft enter my mouth, venturing in every place it possibly could. I let it, causing me to force out a desperate moan. I didn't find it necessary to fight, since Cartman would always find a way to get what he wanted. But I did manage to let my tongue play with his while it explored.

His tongue motioned in any direction it could reach. Some were quick tastes and some were longer. That smooth muscle glided across my teeth, leaving my gums hot; slipped along the inside of my cheek, causing my cheeks to burn up; and twirled along with my tongue, having fun with it. His licks stopped after his fun was over and retreated his tongue, along some of my saliva mixed with mine. Ours. His lips enfolded over mine and kissed the top delicately, along with the bottom. His head went down and kind of just cuddled at my neck. He whispered between rhythmic breaths, "What about Stan?" He began to peck carefully at my thin neck.

I had more nervous breaths. I lifted my head up, so I could expose as much skin on my neck as possible. His kisses felt amazing. I just stared at the ceiling half out of it. Cartman's question hit my ear. It made me think. Was that why he didn't want to do anything with me before? Did he think he was coming between me and that Goth? If that's the case, why is he doing this now? Was it because I told him to? Did that make it sound like it was alright now? I opened my mouth to answer back, "What about him?"

"Is he…" He started, but became preoccupied with the new skin I let him reach. He gave little kisses to it, up to the jaw and back down, stopping at the middle. He tried his sentence again, "Is he…" He couldn't help back give my neck a little more attention before finishing, "…still with… you?" He let his tongue do some of the work now, trying to find a good place on my skin.

I thought about his words. He'd stop if I said yes. I didn't want him to. "No…" I groaned out, loving his treatment. It gave my head this clouded feeling.

I felt his lips curve up into a smile. He sighed out, but I think this time it was good (Hell, it felt good). He brushed his lips across my neck and began nipping at some spots, "Be with… me." He lifted his hand and unzipped my jacket a little to get at my shoulder. "Please…" He added, pleading out into a heavy breath.

Feeling his teeth pinch at my skin, my body pushed forward, against him. For some reason, it wasn't a bad pain. I wanted him to keep doing it. It made everything tingle again. I fell short to respond, but I finally did, "Always… Cartman…" I gasped, feeling another pinch.

He found a spot on the middle of my neck and began slowly sucking at it. "McCormick…" He said barely audible, as if he didn't want to remove his lips from his spot. He said my name just to say it. It sounded so much better even if I could hardly hear it, because it was said so lovingly.

I placed my hand on the back of his head and gripped at his hair every time I felt pressure. I let him abuse my neck. It felt so good.

-----------------------------------

"YOINK!"

After playing for a little while in bed, he got me up and we went to the store. I was really surprised because he let me hold onto his arm all the way into the store. Everyone's favorite store, Target!

After getting more stares that I liked, I let go of him and just walked close next to him. I smiled, as if I've never been to Target in my life. It felt like fucking Disney land. Today was a brand new day. I don't want to say anything else. The last time I did that, I jinxed myself. I looked over to the men's department, and sprinted over there.

Cartman just watched me like I was smoking something. He walked over to my side and watched what I was doing, "You want something? I'll buy it." He spoke out freely, as if money meant nothing (When the truth is, money means life).

I looked through the sizes of blue jeans. I ran over to the rack with a darker color blue. I carefully shuffled through the sizes until I found the perfect ones, "Got cha!" I pulled out and pair and handed it over to him.

He cocked an eyebrow up and looked at the pants with confusion. They were way too large for me to wear, "No offense, but these are way to big for you, Kenneh." I could tell the last thing he wanted to do was make me mad, by the way he said it.

I laughed at him with a wide smile, "No, this isn't mine. I want you to try them on." I really wanted to see how his ass looked in them. What makes this different, is that I don't have to secretly catch quick glances. I can get the full blown view. I like the sound of that.

He rubbed at his head, "Alright." I could tell he wasn't a clothes shopper. Neither was I, but I was doing this for whole different reasons. He grabbed my wrist and headed for the dressing room.

I just followed and smiled in another victorious march.

Cartman got into one of the dressing rooms and he made me stay out on the other side of the door. Darn. So, I stood there, just looking around aimlessly, since there were no little cracks I could look through to peek at what he was doing in there. Trust me, I checked.

The door clicked open and he stood there with the jeans on, not exactly happy. I didn't understand why. They looked amazing on him.

"Turn around," I twirled my finger, wanting to see the back side. I couldn't wait. If I was getting hot just seeing the front side, just imagine how much more enjoyable the back would be.

He watched me, not really understanding what I meant, "Like this?" He asked, turning so his back was facing me. He placed his thumbs through the belt loops and looked over his shoulder.

I almost fell over and died. His ass was… so… so… fucking adorable! I tried to play it off. I walked closer and pretended like I was seeing how the jeans fit him. I wrapped my arms around him and let the lower front of my body get a personal feel on his ass. I swayed side to side and whispered, "Perfect."

He turned his head, almost kissing me, when he looked up and passed me. He pulled forward, breaking my hold on him, still looking beyond me. "These are fine," he said, after clearing his throat. He walked into the dressing room again and shut the door behind him.

I looked back. People. They were just standing there with looks of disgust. Why did it suddenly feel like when we were doing was wrong? I pulled my hood over and wishing I could escape into the dressing room too. What were they looking at? What were they seeing? How can the happiest thing look so horrible through someone else's eyes? No, they didn't see the happiness. All they saw was two guys getting closer than normal. What the Hell his normal? Is normal plain and dull? Something everyone expects you to be? I felt like there was something wrong with me again. I felt like a broken person. Maybe I needed to go back to the hospital so they can fix me. Make me normal again.

I heard the door open faster than I expected. He had the pants in his hand and didn't look at me once, "Come on." I embarrassed him, didn't I? He only saw me as an embarrassment. He was ashamed of being around me in public. I guess, I don't blame him. I wouldn't want people shooting me stares every single minutes of my life.

I followed behind, giving him space, plus more. I understood what I was. I knew my place.

He led me to another isle. One with appliances. Waffle makers, blenders, toasters, and all those other pointless machines. "Kenneh," He said kind of leaning against one of the shelves and folding his arms. He watched a blender as if he were talking to it instead, "We have to be more careful."

I looked down at my ratted ass shoes. "Yeah," I agreed. Why did people have to be like this? Can't they just mind their own business?

He stood up straight and rubbed the back of his neck. He looked down, then made his way over to me. He loosened my hood strings and used his finger to pull the material down and away from my nose and mouth. He leaned down a little to meet my face and whispered, "This doesn't change anything." He placed a small kiss on my nose and smiled, "Okay?" He said, reassuring me. Trying to act like I've done nothing wrong.

I nodded slowly and looked at him. Why did I have a feeling this was going to be a lot harder than he thought?

He walked in one direction and I purposely walked in the other. He's trying to tell me everything _was _going to stay the same? Nothing's going to change. And everything wouldn't get better? Those words so full-hearted, seemed so wrong. Why were we any different from them?

"Kenneh?" He asked, turning as he watched me leave. I noticed he always called me by my first name in public. We were together, but it felt broken.

I kept walking even though he kept saying my name to get my attention. Walking off the face of the Earth didn't seem so bad at the moment. I could almost laugh if I didn't remember why I had thought that.

He had gotten closer than I thought. He grabbed my shoulder with that large hand and gave it a small squeeze, "Hey, I understand how you feel." He said, in an almost whisper. Why did he have to say it so low? Was it a secret that he cared?

I grit my teeth and pushed him away, not wanting to look at him. I stood there for a minute and gather my thoughts, then trying to organize them. My eyes fell to the floor and my blonde strands of hair hid away my vision. I shuddered out, "No, Cartman," I breathed a couple times, watching my bangs float up, then back down with each exhale, "I don't think you do."

"What!?" He said offended as Hell. He stomped over to me, "I don't think you understand, but we're in this together!" He pulled my body so I was facing him. He calmed as he saw me. His fingers reached up to brush the miscellaneous strands away from my eyes and back into my hood. His eyes grew sad again. He's been worrying about me again. I could tell. That look on his face. The look in his eyes. His skin was pale and under those eyes, he was started to grow black marks. "We _are _in this together, right?" He asked, almost forcing me to say 'right' back.

"People are going to find out," I felt tired. I wanted to just get away from this. But how do you do that?

"I know," He said in defeat. We both knew that. What would happen when everyone knew about… us. I can hardly think it right now. I guess, I had to enjoy what I had right now, without thinking about consequences later.

We neared the exit, but had to go through the checkout line. He was buying the pants I told him to. He didn't have to. The time had passed for that. But he probably thought he could fix everything with it. He always thought money revolved around the world. I guess, it did. But I'd even be happy living on the street, begging for small change, as long as I had Cartman beside me. It may be hard to believe, but I loved him more than life itself. I wondered if he'd understand that. I'm guessing not, since he can't grasp easy shit like caring and expressing emotions when the time comes.

Then again, he's made fun of so many people in the past. He could put down anyone and tear down their ego with a few words. Maybe he feels like an instigator if he acts like a 'pussy' in front of the whole world. He's made a title for himself, and that's the hardest thing to live next to. Once people see you as one thing, you can't be seen as anyone else. All eyes are on him, and people are just waiting for him to do something wrong so they can get back at him for saying those hurtful things. Revenge is a bitch. What's more of a bitch, is that you do things without thinking and having regrets later. You do something wrong, you pay for it later. Nothing is free.

I watched the mini candy isle at the checkout line. Nothing's free? I snatched a bar of candy and shoved it in my pocket. No one saw. Not even Cartman. Maybe I could prove something. There are thing's money can't buy, but sometimes you have to pay with something else. That's where money doesn't revolve around us, but people's actions do.

My head snapped up, hearing the slight 'beep' from the cashier. I looked over to see the pants were shoved into a bag and they were paid for. Cartman grabbed the plastic bag and watched me. He smiled and turned so I could follow.

We walked out the doors and heard the scanner go off. We kept walking, ignoring the loud emergency beeping. No one stopped us, well me anyways. Some of the store guards stopped the people in back of us and checked their bags.

Cartman flexed his hand out so I grab a hold of it. Once he heard the alarm, he knew it was me. I've done this so many times. He's yelled at me every time too. Saying shit like, 'I have so and so much money. I could have paid for it. Blah, blah, blah!' He'd start to think after awhile, that it's not worth the money, it's more of a 'I'll prove you retards wrong' thing. People are so unbearably stupid sometimes, it's funny. But at the same time, it's pathetic.

I grabbed his hand tightly and motioned my head back a little, watching the people getting their things checked. A price will always have to be paid. Sometimes, other people take your blame and do it for you. I couldn't help, but think about that moron, Butters, right now. I've done wrong, and he took all of the blame. Life is filled with greed, guilt, and accusing. It doesn't matter _who_ does the crime anymore. It's _how _it's going to be fixed. I'd almost feel sorry, if it wasn't for me being right next to Cartman. I'd rather watch that Butters die slow and painfully, than to have someone pry my loving Cartman from my cold dead hands. Call it selfish. Call it whatever you want. But I call it survival. You have to know what's up and what's down, and you have to balance out what is more important. Life's about sacrifice. But I'm not prepared to give up Cartman without a fight. You can kill me now before that happens.

We reached the car. I got in first. It was cold, but I didn't show it. I was going to get another talk from him again. Do people always have to sit me down and talk? It seems like it's an everyday thing now.

He sat down and turned the car on. He shook his head, "Kenneh, don't you ever learn?"

"I learn," I spoke out, hard and strong, "I learn from every mistake." I watched the window and rubbed my gloved hand against it just so I could look out it.

"Sometimes I wonder if that's true," He said with a look of disappointment. He pulled out of the parking space and went on his way down the road.

I pulled out then stolen candy out of my pocket. It was a Hershey bar. I looked at him, then down at it, "I was going to share it with you." I said, as if proving a point. I opened the wrapper and the smell of chocolate absorbed into the car.

"Fine," He said, holding out his hand. He probably figured talking wasn't going to stop me from doing anything. Maybe, because he's the same way.

I gave him a playful smile, "You didn't think I was just going to hand it to you." I leaned against him and put my hand across his belly, pinching it every now and then. "You've been worrying so much about me," I spoke in a little baby voice, "When's the last time your tummy had a snack?" I broke off a piece and popped it into my mouth. I moaned and licked my lips, acting as if it were the greatest thing in the world, "Oh God, It's so amazing!"

He swallowed hard, trying to keep his focus on the road. He wanted that chocolate taste in his mouth. He's always had a weakness for food, but right now, he's trying to play it off. "Shut the fuck up." His eyes were shifting through the windshield, at me, and to the windshield again.

I broke off another piece with my teeth and sat on my knees, placing my face towards his. "You want it, come get it." I said in a seductive voice, still having the sweet candy between my mouth.

"Get out of here!" He shouted, aggravated. He was stubborn and didn't want to give up that easy, but how could he resist? How could he resist my lips and the treat? He was, but I could tell his will was crumbling little by little.

"Come on…" I said, blowing the scent of chocolate onto his lips. Watching him protest was actually making me hot. He was turning me on so bad right now, and he wasn't even doing anything.

It was amazing how he didn't even try to get the candy from me the whole ride home. I can't say the same once we walked into the door though.

The door shut behind me and I was pushed against it. I couldn't stand feeling this pressure so long. After feeling his aggressive moves and being pinned to the door, I placed my hands on his shoulder and pulled myself up, trying to lace my legs around him. My pelvis area rested against his and I played with the small chocolate in my mouth.

He charged his face forward and covered my mouth with his. His tongue went inside and helping to melt the candy into a thick liquid. He muffled a groan, obviously loving the treat more than usual. His lower half began to grind against mine.

I felt my back sliding up then down on the door. My body felt hot all over. My hands fell to his back and rubbed and grabbed anything, thoughtlessly. All I could think of was myself getting harder with each frictioning scrape.

He was getting hard too. Who knew all you had to do to break Cartman was to give him a little chocolate? He excitedly went faster on me. He held me tight. He held me close, and didn't show any signs of letting me go. One hand slid down my back and straight to my ass, grabbing the left cheek tenderly.

I needed to breath. I let him have the rest of the candy and separated our mouths. I breathed hard, bucking my hips onto him. Pressure down below was starting to become intense. It felt like my dick was going to bust open and fly into a million-billion pieces. I bounced up and down, feeling his hard-on scrape and grind against mine. My forehead pressed onto his shoulder and I whimpered, clawing and biting at his shirt. I hated and loved this feeling more than anything. I've never felt it so powerful. The urge to just hump the fucking life out of him!

He started pounding himself on me. Probably feeling the same sensation. He held me up by the ass, having his hand as my personal seat. His fist flew at the door and he let out a loud, irritated groan. He inhaled and exhaled fast, choking on his own breath. His groin dug more fiercely into mine. Our clothes getting in the way, but adding to the friction.

I cried out, feeling his thrusts getting a lot more harsh. It was kind of starting to hurt, but it only left a numb, addictively pleasurable feel. I couldn't help but try to force my hips forward. I didn't want to loose this. The only thing that was in my head now, was my mind repeating that I loved Cartman. Over and over. Acting like I'd forget or something.

I itched! He itched! We itched!

We stopped…

We breathed heavily into each other's ears. The pressure went away. All I could do right now is try to understand what just happened. That, and remember how to breath. My head lifted off of Cartman's shoulder and nuzzled my face on his so I could see him.

He faced me, still holding on tight. He looked at me with these glittering eyes. Ones I've never seen before. His face glistened with a little bit of sweat, but I didn't mind. It just showed me he actually worked for something in his life. That was for me. His lips whispered against my face, "I love you so fucking much, McCormick."

I knew why we stopped. My pants felt wet. If I wasn't so Goddamn happy right now, I probably would have cursed. "I know, Cartman," I said, teasing with his words. I knew he wouldn't mind.

I kissed his forehead, and he kissed my chin. God, if it felt this good right now, how the Hell would if feel if we were actually in bed doing it? I could wait, though. Shit like this takes one step at a time, even if it felt like we were rushing right now. I could laugh, this relationship can go as fast or as slow as it wants to. It didn't matter. As long as Cartman kept giving me his love.

Shit, I want to be Mrs. Cartman… So bad…


	14. FadeAway

I woke up extra early Sunday morning. I was planning to make breakfast in bed for Cartman. By the way, not to sound like a little preppy, but he was so cute watching his sleeping face before I got out of bed. I giggled and went down the stairs. Could I imagine my life any better? Probably not. I raced to the kitchen and raided it to find the perfect breakfast for the most amazing guy in the world.

To tell you the truth, I was impressed. It looked like his mom always stocked up on food, and everything was well organized. Unlike my house where you'd find ketchup packets and white bread that's been sitting there for weeks.

I grabbed some bisquick and eggs, and everything else. I looked over at the little frilly apron. I wondered what he'd think if I walked into the room with that thing on. I smiled and picked it up, tying the strings behind my back. We'd find out.

I quickly whipped up the batter and stuck two pans on the stove and got them started. I was making pancakes and eggs first. I couldn't wait to see the look on his face. But after making the sixteen pancake, I noticed cooking was kind of lame and boring. But since I still had a lot of batter left, I had to keep going. Gay! I shrugged it off. It'll just be leftovers (If they even get that chance). I blushed and smiled. Why did I think Cartman was so hot? Every little thing just made me want to… on a lower level, hug him to death.

I flipped the bubbling pancake mix and heard the sizzle as the cool side hit the hot frying pan. There were so many things dancing in my head. Most of them were gay too. I laughed, then flinched, feeling a small burn on my hand. Something must have popped out and hit me while I wasn't paying attention. That's what happens when you don't concentrate on what you're doing.

It had to be at least a half hour of day dreaming and burning the shit out of my hand before I got to flip the last pancake onto the 'finish' plate. I smiled in victory, then, slouched down, almost forgetting I still had to make eggs and bacon. Damn those eggs and bacon! I wanted to surprise Cartman now!

I poured the oil in the pan and watched the thick liquid pop and sizzle. This didn't look too safe, but it didn't matter, now did it? I made the eggs first since I didn't want them tasting like porky bacon. I've tasted that at restaurants before. Actually that was at the café, where Cartman forced me to order something. I ordered eggs, I got some that tasted like the wrong end of a pig. I smiled, knowing Cartman had kicked the manager's ass after that. I got new eggs too. So nice.

"Ow!" I dropped the spatula and with reflex, I stuck my finger in my mouth. This was seriously a woman's job. I bet the Jew could teach me how to make breakfast. I kicked my fallen utensil across the floor and got another, flipping the eggs over. Small price to pay, I guess. But it'd be worth it.

I placed the finished eggs on another plate and started with the bacon. I tried to put the little strips of meat in carefully, but the bubbling grease always got to my hands before I could. Then, I'd drop it and more would splash on me. I felt like a complete dumb blonde on a fucking reality show. Should just stick a shirt on me that says, 'Is it chicken or fish?' and have me prance around like I'm Jessica Fucking Simpson. I knew I had to be a little smarter than that bitch, though.

I was so excited after I put the last demon bacon on a separate plate. That meant, I was done, right!? But one question. How was I going to get the plates upstairs. Knowing me, and the klutz that I am, everything would go flying and all that work would be worth nothing.

I searched the drawers and cabinets. In the little pantry, I found some kind of fold out plastic table thing and a tray. Jesus, did they not have anything? I wonder how many times his mom used it for him? I smiled. It didn't matter, because it was my turn.

I placed the plates carefully on the tray and watched the little fold out table. I'd have to balance the fucker and carry that thing? I put on end of the try on my shoulder and held it from underneath. Then, grabbed the table with the other hand. So far so good, until I started walking. I had to keep a slow pace in order to do this right.

There went another half of my life as I walked up the stairs, but I did it. That's all that mattered. I got to his room and peeked inside. He was still sleeping. Score! I walked in and set the tray onto his little work desk. I began to unfold the bed table.

He shifted positions so his face was in my direction now. Those eyes slowly began to open. "What the Hell?" He whispered, probably confused. I don't blame him.

I smiled at him cheerfully and placed the out folded table across him. "Are you hungry?" I asked, with an overjoyed tone of voice. He didn't have to answer, I knew most likely he wouldn't. I grabbed the tray's handles and set it on top of the little table.

His eyes practically lit up. "Aw, God, McCormick…" He put his fingers up to his head and rubbed there, shaking his head, "You didn't have to." He spoke out in a sincere voice. I guess, he couldn't believe I would have went through all this trouble. He put his hand on my shoulder and pulled me forward, "Come 'ere." He pulled up closer and zeroed in on my face, kissing my lips gently. He looked down at the apron I was wearing and laughed, "You look good as my bitch."

I looked away with a shy face. How could those words not offend me at all? I was actually really proud of myself. "Well, I'd like to do more than look that part," I gave those full lips a kiss back. I couldn't help, but mumble something extra, "Sweet-Ass."

He did nothing, but give me a smirk and have way at his breakfast. He picked up the fork deciding what he'd kill first. Naturally, he went for the pancakes. "Amazing!" He complimented.

I nodded, "Thanks!"

Before another word came from my mouth, the door bell rang. It went off repeatedly, until the door was forced open. Someone was in a hurry to get inside.

Without me noticing, Cartman had already stood up. He began to walk, then stopped as he saw somebody run up the stairs.

The Jew. He ran, almost tripping over himself. He stopped as his hand hit the doorway, "Cartman!" He shouted, hot and out of breath. He was panicked. Something was wrong. "They're…! It's…!"

Cartman shook his head not really understanding. "What? What's wrong?"

Kyle placed his hand to his chest and took in a hard swallow of air, before sitting down. He looked at him with pleading eyes, "Butters was found not guilty…" His eyes hit the ground, "What the Hell were you thinking!?" He shouted, smashing his fist into the carpet, "Damn it, Cartman! You do the stupidest things sometimes!!!"

Cartman, offended, came forward. "Stupid? Look who's stupid! You bust into my house not making one bit of sense, Jew!"

I went in front of him, trying to back him away from Kyle. I kind of agreed with him, but I had a bad feeling about this. "What did he do?" I asked, carefully.

"Butters didn't kill your dad, dude! Cartman did!" Kyle blurted out. "The police are after you, fat-ass! They have fucking proof it was you!" He gasped in more air and added more in a saddened voice, "Get out of here, dude. You better run, you fat piece of shit!" He looked up at him with tears, "You mother fucker! Leave! If they find you, you're going to jail…" He sniffed, "For the rest of your Goddamn life!"

Cartman looked down, taking in all this. He didn't really have any emotion for me to read. He looked calm. "No." He said quickly.

"What!?" I asked, digging my fingers into his shirt. What the Hell was he thinking? Didn't he hear anything he just said? He was being accused of something he didn't do. Something I did! "This was my fault! Not yours!"

"Your fault?" Cartman looked down at me with a smile, "Of course it isn't."

I looked at him confused. What was he doing? "I was the one who killed my dad, not you!" Didn't he remember?

"Stop defending him, Kenny! He's a fucking murderer!" Kyle got up and pulled me by the shoulders, backing me up from him. He whispered in my ear, "I know he's our friend, but he's a killer, dude. Stay away from him. Don't listen to him anymore. Knowing him, this is all just a stupid plan of his." Kyle didn't believe me. I spoke my confession loud. He heard, but he didn't believe me.

I looked up at Cartman. The bastard was still smiling. Fuck! I knew what he just did! He planned this, just so I wouldn't go to jail. He accused Butters at first, but just to make sure he put his own life on the line. The stupid shit head! He was there. He cleaned up every bit of evidence leading to me, didn't he?! I was nowhere near the 'scene of the crime.'

I pushed Kyle away from me and put my arms around Cartman, "You idiot!" I buried my face into him. I muffled out, "You can still save yourself, dude. Say it was me. Just say it was me!" I held him tighter, "Please! Fuckin' say it was me!"

He placed his warm hand onto my head, running those fingers through my tangled strands. "I couldn't do that," He put his arms around me and gave my body a squeeze, "I'm gunna miss you." He hid his face into my scalp and I heard his quietly choke on a couple sobs.

Kyle kind of just stood there, trying to make out what he was seeing. I knew one thing was going through his mind. That was, 'Cartman cares about something other than himself?' The Jew stepped forward, "Cartman, as a friend, I think you should leave. Get out of here. Save yourself, dude. I would hate to see you go down like this." His words were honest.

Cartman let me go a little, looking at him. His eyes hit the ground as he nodded, "Alright." He looked at me as the back of his hand grazed my cheek, "Take care of yourself." He sucked in a breath as if his lungs almost gave out. He walked passed me.

He was going to leave? Too bad I couldn't blame Kyle for this one. I didn't want him to. This was my fault! We were going to be separated because of me! My stupid mistake. I can't see this happening. I can't do this. This will never work! I need him!

Tears came and there was no one to dry them. I didn't think it would lead to this. When I killed my dad, I killed Cartman along with him, right? What options did I have? The only thing I could do is watch him leave.

Kyle put an arm around me. It wasn't the same. Sure, he was a friend. But… "It's going to be alright." The Jew couldn't even say that with a straight face. How the Hell was I suppose to believe that bull.

I smacked his arm off me, "No, it's not…" I went to Cartman and put my arms around his one like I have done so many times before. "I'm coming with…" The only way I could be with him now, was to leave. I squeezed tighter. It was a small price to pay. "I'll follow you, forever. Like I've followed you since day one. I won't leave you."

He didn't even look at me. He slid his arm out of my hold and kept walking out into the hallway.

"Wait!" I screamed out for him, "What about me! You can't just leave me, you ass hole!" My cheeks got wetter and my vision was blurred, "Please! Please, let me come with! Please Cartman!"

He looked over his shoulder and looked me up and down. His face looked annoyed. He turned all the way around and folded his arms, "Alright, alright. Just quit your bitchin'." He gave me a small smile after his words.

"No! Cartman, are you mentally insane!?" Kyle smacked his face after saying that, "You're not going to let him do that, are you? Remember when he followed you before? Right into a fucking truck!? You really want to kill Kenny _that_ bad?!"

I faced Kyle, giving him an angry stare. Just when I was about to shout something, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

It was Cartman's. He was standing behind me, giving the same smile he was a couple second ago, "The way I see it, Kenny owes me. We're in this together." He looked down at me, "To the end."

I blushed and let a shy smile cross my lips. I nodded and repeated, "To the end." I felt important now. I didn't know why. But I did.

"This is serious! Are you both retarded!?" The Jew went over to me and looked at me with worried eyes, "Kenny! You don't have to do this! Don't listen to this bastard! He's going to kill you! He's going to kill you, just like he killed your dad!" Liar. "Stay here! Let him go to jail! He deserves it! What he did was wrong! You know it!" Liar! "You like Stan, right!? Go over to his place! Hell, live with him! At least I know you're not going to kill yourself there!" LIAR!

My hands clutched. Shaking. Hating. Untrusting words thrown right at my face. He knew nothing. He never did. He always knew half the story and nothing else. He isn't as smart as he claims to be. Preaching, preaching, and preaching about nothing but what he assumes. He makes me sick! "Enough!" My fist collided with his face, right into his left eyes.

I watched him fall to the ground, holding the spot when he was hit. He watched me confused, "What?"

"Is that all you think about?! You're a fuckin' selfish bastard! You don't want me going because of how much it will hurt you?! Shut up!!" My eyes were stuck on him. Why I hated him so much, I have no idea. He pissed me off so bad though.

"Hurt?" The Jew questioned, looking away. He gripped the bottom of his own shirt and gave me an aggressive tone, "Sorry for caring!! Jesus fucking Christ! I don't want to lose anyone else. When I first moved here, I was so afraid no one would except me here, in South Park. Then, I met you guys. I had three amazing friends." He got up, still not looking my way, "But as years went by, I kept losing them. Stan and you two are the only one's I've ever had." His eyes met mine now, looking glassy, wanting to free tears, "Dude, is it so selfish to feel hurt when you have no one?"

All pressure released and I was left with open palms. I felt like an idiot now. I couldn't even look him in the face now, "No… No, Kyle… That's not selfish at all…" I felt Cartman's hand rub at my shoulder again. I looked back, having my attention on him now.

He whispered, "I'll be in the car. I'll be there for five minutes. After that, I'll leave. I'll let you decide you if you come with or not." His hand slowly slid off me as he walked away.

My eyes focused on the ground. I had a choice now. Be with Cartman for the rest of my life or stay here so Kyle isn't alone. This shouldn't have been as hard as I was making it.

"It's alright, go." Kyle said as he tried to force a smile. For my sake.

I shook my head and went forward. "I know it probably seems like we're the most distant friends out of all four of us, but… you know? We're still cool. And well, I still care." I placed my hand onto my chest, "I was the selfish one. The only person's feelings I cared about were mine."

He nodded, looked at me, nodded again, smiled, frowned, looked at the ground.

I looked around a little nervous, before actually holding my arms out to him. I lightly put them around him and gave him a quick squeeze. "Alright, then."

He just laughed and did the same thing, with those same steps. "'Kaye."

We looked around the room in silence.

Kyle spoke up, "So, uh… You and Cartman…?" He twisted his fingers. I think that was suppose to mean 'together.'

My whole face turned red and looked out the door, "Um… Uh… Yeah." I tried to hide a smile after that, but I couldn't.

"Kenny the man whore?" The Jew teased, "Break up with Stan?"

I felt extremely awkward now. "Well… I don't know about man whore? And about Stan… It's on my 'to do' list."

He watched me wide-eyed, "Not a man whore, my ass!"

I laughed nervously, but stopped as I heard a car start outside. I had to choose now.

Kyle heard it too. He gave me a real smile this time, and sent a soft punch my way, "Hey, do what you got to do."

I smiled back, "Thanks!" I ran from the room, waving my last good-bye. "See ya!" I guess, I should have held that back. What if I didn't see him again? I have to stop asking 'If.' That's another thing to put on my 'to do' list.

I'll never forget that Jew. Never on my life.


	15. HisWings

We left. We drove. We didn't know where, but we didn't stop until that night. At a hotel.

I wondered where we were. How far we had traveled. How far from home we really were. I didn't ask. I didn't think he knew either. I guess, it didn't matter. Now, did it?

It was practically pitch black in the room, besides the light coming out from the crack of the bathroom door. I heard the shower go off. He explained to me earlier he didn't get a chance to shower today. I looked at the time. 12:04. Well, I guess, it's a different day. I don't know? I didn't want to think about it.

How long would we be together? How long will it be until he gets caught? How long will it be when I see him get taken away from me, because of something I did? We couldn't run forever. I knew that. I think he knew that too.

I heard the water settle. The curtain opened.

I was sitting on top of the bed, just thinking. Waiting, I guess. No one was here. No one would be here. Everyone else was back home. I unzipped my jacket and laid there, on the bed, with nothing covering my top half.

The door creaked open. He watched me standing in the light, just staring at me with serious eyes. He was only in a towel and he still looked wet. He just stood there, watching.

Just the sight of him was making me hot. I wanted him. Out of all of the people in the world, why could he be the only one who made me feel that way? My hands went up to my chest, sliding down passed my stomach and to the beginning of my pants. Small noises came from me as I breathed hard through my mouth. I wanted him to react back.

He only had a more serious look on his face now, but those eyes wouldn't leave me. "McCormick," He said low and transparent. He shut the light off and the room was dark again.

I couldn't see him. I didn't know where he was. I kept making my sounds and rubbing my body, wishing they were his hands. "Cartman," I breathed out. I was taken by surprise when I felt his hands on me, but relaxed for that very same reason.

Those hands went down and unbuttoned my pants. His body hovered over me as he placed his lips against mine. He slid off what was covering my bottom half and threw it somewhere on the ground. His kisses became deeper and more passionate as his hands explored every inch of my body.

I kissed and bit at those luscious lips, as the rest of my body became irritated with his touches. My hands dug into the sheets and my hips forced up, hitting nothing but his towel. They tried again, scraping and grinding, moving around as the painful throbs started to hit my dick, as if it had a heart beat of it's own. My body turned hot, wrapping my legs around his so I wouldn't move too much. That only made it worse. It was like a damn itch I couldn't scratch. I moaned loudly into his mouth.

He was hot too. His body was burning up like mine was. He tried to keep our opened mouths into a kiss, but only accomplished taking in each other's breathes. His head left my lips and attacked my neck. His breathing was harsh and his hands were slowly becoming aggressive.

This pressure was starting to hurt. My arms went around him and my fingers jabbed into his back. I couldn't stop my body from moving every way possible now. The warmth from us was almost suffocating.

He removed his towel, and forced me down so my back was completely on the bed. His hands pushed my legs up and back, almost laying next to my chest. He let go, but now his soft body held them there. His hands laced with mine as he pinned me down. He whispered, "You're going to have to relax for me…"

My eyes were wide. I knew what he was doing. I was scared. I've never done this! The position was uncomfortable, and it left my ass with no defense at all! I tried to break free, struggling my body away from him.

He pushed me down farther, sounding really irritated, "I said relax, not freak out!!" He took a couple seconds to calm himself down. His lips went closer to my face, "I'll be careful…"

My hands held onto his and my eyes closed tight. Nothing happened for a couple seconds. I was even starting to wonder if he was actually going to do it. Right when one eye was going to open, it shut. My body stiffened.

His hard-on was slowly pushed a little bit inside me, before it retreated out. It carefully slid in again, covering more area this time. With each push it kept reaching deeper and deeper into me.

The first one didn't hurt as much as it surprised me. But the ones after hurt like Hell. I don't mean to brag but he was big. Bigger than my small unguarded hole. It felt like he was ripping and tearing at the walls inside. I wondered if he was doing it right. I guess, he had to be. This wasn't rocket science. Like he's always said about doing some one, '_You just stick your penis up there and pee._' I cried out, it was starting to hurt a whole fucking lot more now. He was personally deep, scrapping my edges each thrust he made. Stretching me more and more. At least he did the decency of doing it this way, instead of shoving it all in at once. Holy fucking shit, I don't even want to think about _that!_

He had gotten to the deepest point, so he began to slide in and out a little faster. Widening my hole with each rip.

I curled and uncurled my toes. The pain slowly came to numb, but I still felt it. Each movement made my body slid up, then down on the sheets. Still, the idea of us like this was strangely satisfying.

For some reason, it sound like he was having a difficult time. Each thrust he breathed out roughly. He pushed into me harder, stabbing me with eager pushes. He made a pained face and whispered out, "God, you're so tight!"

That made me hot. His sentence made me feel so much more into him (even if he was inside me). I felt more excited than hurt. More so, that the energy exploded from my throbbing cock, spilling my seeds between both our bodies. My head sunk deeper into the bed and my mouth opened on defense because I was at loss of breath. Feeling of ecstasy and wanting filled me. In short, I've never came like that in all my fucking life! I love him. I love him so much. I actually began to help him with the job he was doing on me. My ass was sore, but got so much pleasure out of it.

I added pressure on him. I could tell. He went faster. Banging himself as far as he could get. Covering, uncovering. Scratching, rubbing. Having his way. In control, yet so out of control.

My voice went a surprisingly high pitch. Whining. Half screaming. I wondered if I was bleeding, but could really care that much to stop and check. "Fuck me harder!" I gasped out, motioning my body with his.

He did, and he did it anxious. Willingly. He wanted me as much as I wanted him. He leaned forward closer onto me. Choking on aggravated moans. His body burned on mine. His last, but strongest push into me. His face came to mine, a lusting look on his face, "McCormick…" He managed out.

My head lifted up, feeling the soft, sticky liquid fill me. I panted and watched those gorgeous green eyes as they appeared in front of me without realizing it. I sucked in sweet air as I heard my name come from his mouth. I whispered out his, "Cartman…"

He made a pleased noise and slipped out of me, taking some of his substance with him. He let my legs fall free and laid next to me. He just smiled.

My legs felt amazing to finally lay right again. I wish I could say the same about my ass though. I ignored it for now and rolled to my side, making my way closer to him. I just noticed we were both covered in sweat. I guess, my attention was on other things instead.

He pulled an arm around me and kissed my lips gently. He pulled away and removed a moist bang from my forehead. He went down and pressed his lips on mine again, equally as soft as the first.

I kissed those lips back and fell perfectly into his arms. I placed one hand on his chest and let the other hang off his neck. My fingers played with the short back strands of his hair. I smiled and watched him. We didn't needs words at this point. Just hold each other and watch each other's perfections. We were a new part of each other.

We had fallen asleep close. Still holding on tight.

My eyes lazily opened as I heard Cartman's cell phone voice through the room. I slowly got up and untangled myself from him. I took a second to looked at him, happily.

He was so sexy. Any other time, he would have woken up, but he's done the most work tonight than any other time I've seen him. He even broke a sweat. I'll leave him be.

I stood up and picked up the first piece of clothing I could find and picked up the phone that was lighting up in the dark. I noticed I grabbed my hoodie. I really didn't want to search the whole Goddamn place to find my fucking pants, so I tied it around my waist and headed for the door. I flipped it open and said, "Hello?" This was a habit you do, right? I kind of forgot we ran away. Shit! What if it was the police!?

"Hello?! Cartman! You fucker! Where's Kenny!" The person on the other side screamed out. Who the hell was calling him this late? What time was it anyways? I wish I recognized the voice.

"Sorry, but I think you have the wrong number," I said, to be on the safe side. I didn't want people knowing this number. And this could be the damn police for all I know.

"Kenny?" The person sounded surprised, "Dude! Is that you? Where are you!? I'll come pick you up!" He sounded family to me. Was it a friend? Did I know him? Who the fuck was this?

I didn't want to sound stupid, so I kind of kept them on and pretended like I knew who they were, "Yeah, I'm Kenny. Uh… You don't have to pick me up, I'm fine." I gave a smile. I wasn't sure if it was fake or not. I guess, it didn't matter since this was a fucking phone call.

"Fine!? Dude, Cartman kidnapped you and you're saying you're fine!?" He gave me this really worried voice. And he over used the word 'dude.' Why does he sound familiar?

"Kidnapped? Where'd you hear that?" I asked, a little curious, and somewhat shocked.

"Dude! You're all over the six a 'clock news!" I can imagine them pointing to the TV, and my picture on there.

I rolled my eyes, "Cartman didn't kidnap me." I stated.

I heard a man in the background say something like, "Stanley, get off the phone! We have to keep all the lines open…!"

My jaw dropped. Stanley? As in, Stan Marsh. Gothic guy with a low empty voice?! Damn! It was him! What the fuck!?

Stan said something like, "Kenny's on the phone. Blah. Blah. Blah!" Everyone raced to the phone, it sounded like.

I slapped myself in the face. Jesus. Well, I guess the Jew didn't get enough courage to talk to him, because Stan would have known what really happened. "You know. I don't feel like talking. Bye." I hung up and sat there. I couldn't have given away much.

I stood up and made my way back into the room. The sun was slowly starting to rise. I fell back into bed and slept. I heard the cell phone go off constantly, but did nothing about it.

Stan. What a poser. What a fucking conformist.

I woke up to the sound of the road. We were driving again, weren't we? I had been laying in the back seat. I looked up, obviously seeing Mr. Amazing in the driver's. I got up and leaned towards the front of the car. My lips went to his ear. I whispered, "Good morning." And kissed the bottom lobe.

He turned his head to me and gave a warm kiss to my lips. His lips slowly turned into a smile as they separated from mine. He looked forward and yanked the steering wheel to the left, swerving into the proper lane. "Jesus Christ," He said under his breath, then cleared his throat. "Um… there's breakfast in the back seat." He concentrated on the road now.

I laughed a little and sunk back into my seat. I looked down at the brown paper bag. Orange juice and a poptart! I smiled and looked at how the orange juice was in a milk carton thing. That's my favorite thing, I don't know why? I picked up the silver bag of the artificially dry breakfast pastry. It was strawberry! Sweet. I just smiled almost wanting to shed a damn tear. How could something like this make me happy? It wasn't even that. He remembered what I liked. Why is that a big deal? Why?

"This is the end of the line…" He said calm.

It was weird. I felt cold as he said that. I looked up. I felt the car stop. I watched out the wind shield.

Roadblock.

I reached up and grabbed his arm. Tight, squeezing it. I had a sick feeling in my stomach. How? How did they find us? Already? Our mistake was probably stopping. We probably should have ran and ran some more until we couldn't anymore. "This means…" I started, I couldn't finish.

"Stay here…" He gave my arm a squeeze back. We slip away from each other. He got out. He looked back at me. He looked tired. Not only a need of much more sleep, but sick…. And tired of this.

I wanted to save him.

I went against his order. I got out of the car.

The officers with microphones told me otherwise too.

My feet hit the steel bridge we had stopped on. I walked slowly to my Cartman's side. I held his hand and looked up at him. "Let's save… each other…" I couldn't say it with a straight face, but I meant it. My arm went around him and hid my face away from this scene and into his chest.

The officer said something else. Really loud, ringing my ear. Something pointless.

Our footsteps slowly backed away.

I followed blind eyed. Trusting him. Something I've always did half assed and got hurt for it. As long as I let him do his thing, everything is fine.

Our bodies hit a ledge.

The officer screamed something else.

He climbed onto the edge. He looked down at only me, nothing else. "Are you sure?" He whispered.

I smiled at him and gave him a nod.

He helped me up and held me in his arms.

I looked at him. Not at the police. Not the crashing waves below the bridge. Only him. It's always been him. I fell into his arms like I had before. I held tight, "Hold me tight… Until you can't anymore…" I muffled into him.

"I promise," He said into the top of my head. His hands rubbed my back, "Have I told you that I loved you?" He asked.

I looked into his eyes and smiled again, "Maybe. Yeah, I think so."

He pressed his forehead against mine and spoke, "Well, I mean it this time."

We both leaned in and gave our one last kiss. Gravity went against us. It had betrayed us. Our feet weren't touching the ground. We fell. But… It felt more like floating. We were finally happy.

Eric Cartman was the only one who loved Kenny McCormick.

Kenny McCormick was the only one who loved Eric Cartman.

I was afraid of him leaving me.

Cartman was afraid he would see nothingness when he died.

If I was his angel… I would be his wings as well…

-

Kenny.


	16. GoodBye

Good-Bye My Lover

-James Blunt

Did I disappoint you or let you down?  
Should I be feeling guilty or let the judges frown?  
'Cause I saw the end before we'd begun,  
Yes I saw you were blinded and I knew I had won.  
So I took what's mine by eternal right.  
Took your soul out into the night.  
It may be over but it won't stop there,  
I am here for you if you'd only care.  
You touched my heart you touched my soul.  
You changed my life and all my goals.  
And love is blind and that I knew when,  
My heart was blinded by you.  
I've kissed your lips and held your hand.  
Shared your dreams and shared your bed.  
I know you well, I know your smell.  
I've been addicted to you.

Goodbye my lover.  
Goodbye my friend.  
You have been the one.  
You have been the one for me.

Goodbye my lover.  
Goodbye my friend.  
You have been the one.  
You have been the one for me.

I am a dreamer and when I wake,  
You can't break my spirit - it's my dreams you take.  
And as you move on, remember me,  
Remember us and all we used to be  
I've seen you cry, I've seen you smile.  
I've watched you sleeping for a while.  
I'd be the father of your child.  
I'd spend a lifetime with you.  
I know your fears and you know mine.  
We've had our doubts but now we're fine,  
And I love you, I swear that's true.  
I cannot live without you.

Goodbye my lover.  
Goodbye my friend.  
You have been the one.  
You have been the one for me.  
Goodbye my lover.  
Goodbye my friend.  
You have been the one.  
You have been the one for me.

And I still hold your hand in mine.  
In mine when I'm asleep.  
And I will bare my soul in time,  
When I'm kneeling at your feet.  
Goodbye my lover.  
Goodbye my friend.  
You have been the one.  
You have been the one for me.

I'm so hollow, baby, I'm so hollow.  
I'm so, I'm so, I'm so hollow.  
I'm so hollow, baby, I'm so hollow.  
I'm so, I'm so, I'm so hollow.

---

Yeah, I felt the song fit. Even though most people hate his voice, I love it. Want to know a secret? I actually cried when I heard this song for the first time. I know, stupid, right? This is the first story I've ever completed all the way. So, I guess that's saying something.

I kind of dedicate this to one of my friends that went away. Moved away actually. She'll never read this and that's on purpose. I understood she never really got my writings. But that's ok. We're not as close anymore, anyways.

As anyone can tell, the year '06 didn't like me. The end of '05 didn't either. I moved right in the middle of the best year of my life. I had three best friends. I've kind of been separated from all of them. Two moved. Then, I moved. It's been hard to leave and go to some huge place you knew nothing about. My first day of school, I almost shit my pants. Lol. Scary as Hell.

Anyways, this isn't about me, this is about my friends. We all had our little nicknames and stuff.

Shadow. He was 'supposedly' the dark, scary, and 'I'll hide my feelings in' kind of guy.

Alexa. The girl who walks around thinking she can solve the world's problems. She's known to getting into things she may not want to.

Kat. The person you go to when you have a problem. She usually helps you with anything.

Me. Scared, shy, and makes thinking by themselves a hobby (That, and writing and stuff. Known to doodle too. lol). Went out with Shadow for a little while (He moved away). Was best friends with Alexa until she went a little too far into someone's business.

Oh! I forgot someone. She was kind of left out too.

Dim. She's shy, afraid to do little minor things that might make her look stupid, and everyone can be her friend if they want to.

Well, if I learned anything these past couple years is that friends come and go. And people are going to put you down. But it's those faults that can make you stronger, or something. Friends go, they leave, and in some cases they die. And trust me, it hurts. I mean, it really really hurts. Not on the outside, but the inside. It will hurt for a little while and it might still sting after that, but if our whole world revolves around that one time you hurt so bad, then what's the point in living? You have to forget about those things and move one. Live life, because some people wait until their on their death bed to say that they don't want to die. They want to live. Time, life, and death wait for no man. God (Or whoever you believe in) only gave you one life.

I know a lot of people don't really support my dad, but if there's any piece of advice he's given me this year is that we can't go along hating and blaming other people. We need to live life to the fullest and except the bad times with the good. Because Once it's gone, it's gone.

So, Thank you to the people who actually went out of their way and put time into reading this. It's semi based off real events, but hey. Everybody puts a little of themselves into their work.

-Good-Bye


End file.
